


Metroid: A Legacy of Blood

by Oozy_Angler



Category: Metroid Series
Genre: Adventure, Space Opera
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-08
Updated: 2020-04-18
Packaged: 2020-11-28 00:10:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 22,839
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20957231
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Oozy_Angler/pseuds/Oozy_Angler
Summary: A new story in the Metroid universe, taking place decades after Samus Aran’s famous mission to the planet Zebes. And, oh, how the times have changed; Samus has the scars and greyed hair to prove it. But only a fool would think she’s any less capable.Her hand has been forced, and now she’s trapped on an alien planet, chasing the Queen of the Space Pirates. She doesn’t want to be there, but completing the mission is her only hope for escape.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This text is prone to large changes as I add in new chapters, make corrections to prior entries, and figure out formatting. But, stupid mistakes are mine to own, and the integrity of the piece will not be compromised just so I may save face.

PART I

"This isn't about money, or revenge...  
This is about some goddamn peace and quiet."

It was evening on Khorrisceon, which was morning to the native Charus. But relatively few of those people filled the streets of Charus City, which was a trading town filled with dozens of other species whose circadian rhythms were an immeasurable tangle. Somewhere in that metropolitan mess a woman sat at bar, sipping lightly at her drink. She was old and battle worn, but not weary. She still held herself with an aloof charm.  
The restaurant was a dark pond where waters mixed freely, home to a dozen islets of light: each an intimate microcosm to its guests. But the woman sat at the bar, which was open and bright. People would look at her to make comments to their partners. But, she wasn't there for anyone but herself. Her relaxed posture was not unaccustomed to the setting. She was a regular. And she sat there in her gold-trimmed blue dress and matching shawl, sipping from her cocktail and making idle chit-chat to the other regulars, as was her custom. She was only vaguely aware of three new men as they entered the bar, she was too busy laughing, but they were keenly aware of her.  
They spotted her after a second, and made in her direction. Their gruff posing momentarily waylaid by the awkward shuffle around patrons and waiters. But then the moment was over, and they were standing around her, trying to be intimidating again. It was difficult for them. Her 6’4” frame, sitting, was still on eye level with them. The skinny one tried to take the lead, sliding into the seat next to hers and leaning in to talk.  
"Hey, Sammy..." It always happened this way, that was the problem with having a face like hers. A face that had graced news reports, awards ceremonies, ads, and the occasional game show. Everyone thought they knew her personally. Thought they could just walk up to her like that and call her Sammy. She didn't get to see where he was going next, he was immediately cut off by the thud of his larger, pig-faced companion taking charge, pushing his way into the seat with his fat ass. He jabbed a finger at her, but knew to keep it well enough away.  
“Where’s Nymictis?” He grunted. He might have been speaking in a calm, collected tone, but, if so, it was lost on other species. Considering his body language, it seemed unlikely. That was harder to mistranslate.  
“Why would I know?” Her response was genuine. His question had come so far out of left-orbit. Why the hell would she know where the self-proclaimed pirate queen was? But she could tell by the way his scowl deepened that he wasn't satisfied with her answer, which was problematic.  
"Bull!" He jabbed her shoulder that time. Very problematic. "You think you have a chance out there anymore, you washed-up bag? You can’t handle the three of us! You can’t take her. The things Nymictis will do to you… unspeakable."  
"Unspeakable," hissed the skinny man who was now sitting two seats away. She saw Jerass move towards her, but made a gesture to the bartender that she had things under control. It wasn't a subtle movement, but it was too subtle for the pig-man, who was already on edge. He went for his gun, but she didn't let him have it. One quick punch connected with his rib-cage, and saw him falling backwards onto his compatriot. She quick-turned to their third, and found her interrogative finger at the tip of his nose.  
"Nymictis?" He nodded frantically. "I don't know. Make sure your friend gets that through his head." She apologized to Jerass, and left as the goons picked themselves up.  


Outside, she walked down the cobbled street. The shopping center was fashioned as a quaint villa. She made her way to a tram station, and boarded the green line that would take her towards her midtown apartment. The ride was uneventful, but there was a man who starred at her the whole way. That happened when you're famous, but this felt different. One rotten meeting was all it took to set you off for days. She started a breathing exercise and focused on the thump-a-rump of the rails.  
There was some relief after she de-boarded and couldn't spot a tail. She made her way straight home, jogging lightly. She ran into her neighbor as she climbed the stairs. He was leaving for his morning walk, but stopped her.  
"Samus,” he said with some unease,” some guys came by looking for you."  
"A pig and two snakes?"  
"No, some efts." Great, so there were more people looking for her.  
"Thanks, Mikesh. I'm going to head out of town for a bit, I think."  
"Oh?" He knew exactly what that meant. "So, the usual… with Myreen?" She nodded the affirmation, and he gave an O.K. They parted. His wish that she ‘stay safe’ echoed up when he reached the bottom of the stairs. She reached her door, punched in the code, and slipped in with a last furtive glance around.  
She set the kettle to boil up some coffee, and began packing a duffel. She called Myreen to come by in the morning to clean up and put the apartment into stasis. Not that it needed any cleaning, but the fridge was stocked and Samus couldn't bear to throw it all out herself.  
Ten minutes later, she set aside an outfit from the clothes she was packing, and stopped to get herself a mug of coffee. She sighed. It was going to be a long night. She put down one cup and poured herself another, then went back into her room and changed. Checking herself in the full-length mirror, she straightened the fleece she had chosen and brushed down her pants. She pulled her hair back in her hands, and debated putting it up. But it wouldn't do her any favors to expose her face more, would it. She let the grey locks fall back to their place and reached for the mirror, pulling open the door of her the jewelry cabinet.  
"Hmmm." Choices to make. She pulled out her decorative eye-piece from of its socket, and replaced it in the velveteen tray. She grabbed a tactical insert and threw it onto the bed, before selecting a more naturalistic replacement. She gave it a blow and popped it in, stretching her face to adjust the way it sat. She was glad no one was around to see. Then she chose a pair of old rings, slid them on, and lastly grabbed the old hold-out pistol, which sat in its belted holster. She closed the mirror-door and, as she fastened her gun belt, wondered what new scars she'd earn. She checked that she had everything in her bag and zipped it up.  
On her way out, she double checked that the door was locked, re-hefted the bag on her shoulder, and started back towards the tram. This time taking the yellow to private docks. She called the garage as she took her seat. By the time she'd arrive, her ship would be fueled and her paperwork filed. There were fewer people on the train this time. Not so many cared to leave this late at night.

~(S)~

The tram reached the spaceport station, and she made her way to the security checkpoint. Her clearance could get her through without any problems, but it was never needed. People saw her face before her papers. Tonight, it got her waved on through and a ride to her hanger with Karl, who was a fan. Karl knew all her stories, and was eager to share some of his own. He yelled them over the whine of his cart as it zipped across the tarmac. Apparently, he'd once seen another officer catch some smugglers. She listened, politely nodding and smiling along. Karl might not be a galactic hero like her, but he was fighting the good fight back home, keeping people safe. He shut himself up as they neared the hangar. Ferdrur, the Ardozian mechanic, hailed them with a meaty paw as he reached for the control panel. The bay doors began to slide open, revealing the majestic purple of the Aria Gyr II within. She exchanged nods with Ferdrur, thanked Karl, and made her way inside. Motion sensors turned on floodlights.  
The Aria Gyr was a ship designed in a collaboration between Samus and the Galactic Federation, to advance their technology through the study of her Chozo equipment. It was hardly a fair trade. Granting them unlimited access to the advanced sciences, and a willing subject to test their devices. She was gifted the premier prototypes; both the Gyr and the Half-Armor Suit she wore on mission.  
The Gyr was much larger than her old Chozo gunship, a fact it owed to its cargo bay. The gunship had been more maneuverable, but paying support crews to carry out cargo was a pain. They weren’t reliable and always tried to get a bigger cut. A larger ship was worth the slog. The expanded design also meant she had proper bed, bath, and cooking facilities available onboard. Long gone were the days of stasis sleep and freeze-dried bag meals. Those was fine for short jumps, but doing it daily wore on you, and eventually you went mad waking up every morning with acute stasis sickness.  
Of course, she couldn't break faith. The Aria Gyr carried the Chozo aesthetic in its lumpy curves, and the two great, tusk-like, nacelles that extended from the aft mono-wing, doubling as landing gear. It stood in its hangar proudly, like a great hieracosphinx.  
As the ship’s computer read her biometric signature, it began to warm the engine. She pulled the heavy switch in the access panel, and a small, auxiliary boarding ramp lowered. Samus Aran stepped back into her home away from home.  
The ship shared not only the aesthetic, but the original even had some legacy parts. The II was not so historifically endowed. There was an artistically arranged piece of hull hung in the galley, and that was about it. Not that it mattered, Theseus could have commanded a dinghy, and it would’ve still been his ship.  
She set down her duffel bag in the galley, and made the thermostat her priority. Unoccupied storage units didn’t need A/C, and the ship was toastier for it. When she was comfortable, she climbed up to the bridge. As she took her seat, she reached under the control panel for the glove compartment and pulled out the stuffy headphones that always squeezed her head just a little too hard – they were legacy, too – and hailed flight control as she began flipping switches.  
"Confirmed, Aria Gyr, we have a space for you in line at pad five. Please proceed."  
"Roger that, flight control. Aria Gyr proceeding to pad five." She pushed the first throttle forward and taxied out of the hangar. She threw Ferdrur a quick salute when she was clear of the doors. In the distance she could see the lights on a cart and wondered if Mr. Fan-boy was hanging around to watch. It brought a smile to her face. She waited her turn behind a smaller Cosmo-Liner, before pulling onto the pad. The cockpit reoriented itself for take-off. The computer projected her atmospheric exit course onto the cockpit’s view screen. She waited for the countdown mounted on the gantry above.  
FIVE.  
FOUR.  
READY.  
STEADY.  
GO.  
She leaned into the main throttle, only fighting gravity for a second before letting it throw her back into her chair. She braced herself for the exit spiral, as centrifugal force compounded all the stress of gravity. They were the eight, rocket-fueled minutes of adrenaline all adventurers lived for.  
Once clear of atmosphere she unbuckled herself and floated back to the galley, leaving the computer to steer. Her course was set for GFS Durango, the nearest Federation ship with a Bounty Officer on board, and he'd better have answers. She wasn't going to the spend the rest of her life dodging wannabes out for a clue.

~(S)~

The GFS Durango sat just on the edge of the system, as per Federation regulations. It was too dangerous to allow that many violent psychopaths in proximity planetside, let alone their prisoners. The bounty ship was positioned off the main space-way, so any approach had to be intentional. It encouraged hunters to drop off their quarry before hitting planetside, and to check the bounty register as they left system.  
The ship itself was little more than an armored hangar bay, folded over itself, taco-style. The main drive shaft running down the center had been repurposed to feed battery upon battery of anti-ship guns. A bounty ship wasn’t properly equipped to run away, so defense had to be prioritized, especially when every day offered a dozen opportunities for vengeful pirate clans to attack. They never seemed to understand that neither the hunters, nor their comrades were on the ship anymore. It didn't matter, they found solace in cracking Federation vaults.  
That didn't faze Col. Roark Ettilson, who had managed to never suffer such an attack during his service. It was a fact most of his peers doubted, but its truth could be sensed in the haughty way Ettilson dismissed the threat. The colonel was getting his "morning" cup of coffee from a lounge with some of the other commissioned officers. The word really lacked any meaning that far out in space. The only sun he needed was the UV bed he lay in for 3 hours every day, and he set his watch to that. He was sipping coffee and listening to the others trade stories, while he tried to put down the dry supplement pills that kept every Federation soldier fit and sane. Choking those things down every day made for their own type of madness. He felt his commlink buzz in his pocket, and excused himself. Stepping into the hall, he fished the device out of his pocket and flipped it open.  
"Good morning, Irene." He drew out the oo three or four times longer than she cared for, but he didn't know that.  
"Morning, Colonel. We've –"  
"What's going onto today?" She waited a second to be sure he was finished.  
"We've be assigned to meet with hunter Samus Aran when she docks, Colonel. ETA one hour."  
“No shit.” Samus Aran. Whoever she was bringing in had to be worth big bucks. He started dreaming up all the things he could do with his cut, but chose to face reality: he'd spend it all on a box of fancy Han-Lan cigars, the kind that made him feel all tingly. He was still day dreaming when he walked into his office overlooking the hangar bay. Irene, his secretary, was sitting at her desk.  
"Morning sir,” she knew that face. “Cigars?" Mmm, he loved that word.  
"Yes, Irene. Cigars." He sat down at his desk and pulled out a drawer. Sitting inside were two boxes. He set the smaller one on the desk, and pulled from it a kerchief, lighter, cigar cutter, and mouthpiece. He reached for the larger box and gently pulled out a Han-Lan. He set to work preparing it.  
"How long until Samus is here?" He punctuated the question with the snip of the cutters.  
"An hour, sir."  
"An hour." he grumbled back, mindlessly, as he fitted the roll into its mouthpiece. The words echoed on as he lit and raised it to his mouth. "An hour. An hour. An hour." But he only had one thought in his head. Damn those fish-men make a good cigar.

~(S)~

Samus sat in the Gyr’s galley, now with a thermos of tea she sipped from, as she read an ebook. She heard the whine of the engines start to die down and grabbed her thermos, lest it go flying in the shudder of deceleration. She got up and replaced the data pad in its cargo harness, just in time to hear the wip-wip alarm of the proximity sensor. She ignored the ladder, jumping up to the cockpit, and set down her tea in the cupholder as she took her seat. Outside, her viewscreen showed a pair Federation starfighters flanking her. The ‘open channel’ light came on. She reached for the button with one hand, while readjusting her headset with the other. There was a tic of silence as she waited for the starfighters to acknowledge her.  
"Unknown vessel, uhhh… Howdy, Aria Gyr, please send your confirmation code.”  
"This is Samus Aran of the Aria Gyr. Confirmation code: 1Z9Y-8036-HA." she recited from memory, phonetically, and could hear the ping of their computer as it confirmed the code and voice print.  
"Alright, you're clear. Switch to this frequency and flight control will see you in. Safe hunting, Samus." Another light came on on her radio and she switched channels. Their job done, the two ships peeled away from her and back to their patrol. She hailed flight control. The trajectory automatically came up on the view screen, and guided her into docking bay 24. As she pulled in, she could see a man standing in the office above. His face hidden in a small cloud of smoke. She brought the Gyr down onto the turntable, and made sure everything was in place before heading down the ramp. She was greeted on the deck by a brunette woman, who seemed almost surprised to see her.  
"Samus Aran?" She asked. A little trepidation wasn't uncommon the first time someone stood in the amazon's shadow. "Are you?"  
"Yeah, that's me."  
"I thought you wore a suit?" The question was spoken with child-like innocence. Samus tried to make sure she wasn’t being condescending in her answer.  
"I do when I'm on mission." But the young woman was clearly embarrassed.  
"I'm Lieutenant Irene Mpmoth under Colonel Roark Ettilson. We were assigned to your case, but we thought you were bringing someone in." So that was the source of confusion.  
"Nope, but I have some questions about a bounty they just posted."  
"Ok.” the lieutenant said. "We can work with that. But upstairs, follow me." And with that she walked back into the ship. As she followed, Samus noticed the smoking man had gone from the window.

~(S)~

Col. Ettilson's office was one in a line of identical offices running down the spine of the Durango. Bounty officers weren't noted for their artistic choices, they were glorified accountants; responsible for putting numbers on heads and then paying them out. Like all Federation ships, the office was darkly lit by inadequate UV lamps that gave everything a bluish glow. Not to mention proclivity for catching stains.  
"So, Samus," Ettilson spoke around puffs of smoke. He over articulated his jaw so he could talk and smile at the same time. "I thought you always got your man."  
"I'm not after anyone, Colonel. They're after me." He frowned the same way Lt. Mpmoth had in the hanger.  
"No bounty? No. Bounty." No cigars. "So then, what brings you here – You’ve got a bounty on your head? Ha!" His laughter just kept going. "I think I'd know about that. I think I'd know about that before you did." Lt. Mpmoth spoke up.  
"Hunter Aran has some questions." Samus nodded to her in thanks.  
"I have questions about Nymictis." The two perked up at that. Ettilson's smile became devilish.  
"Nymictis is a bounty.” he nodded slowly. “Nymictis is a big bounty. Irene, what's the tally on Nymictis Clan?" The lieutenant started tapping away at her computer, scrawling notes on the pad beside her. Her hand switching between the stylus and mouse. Scroll. Scribble. Scroll scroll. Scribble scribble. The list was extensive, but Lt. Mpmoth didn't seem to notice. She had entered the glaze-eyed trance office workers master. She came back after a moment.  
"159,000 ¤ plus change," she said. Ettilson let out a whistle.  
"Samus Aran always has to go after the big game."  
"I'm not hunting Nymictis,” She said. “But people think I am. They think I know where she is, and I want you to tell me why they would think that. What connection do I have to her?" She could see in their faces that they didn't know. Lt. Mpmoth turned back to her computer, but the Colonel stopped her.  
"Irene, would you be a dear and bring us two cups of…" He stopped himself to shoot an inquisitive finger at Samus, "Coffee or Tea?"  
"I'm fine."  
"Coffee it is. Two Coffees and whatever you want, Mpmoth." He stepped into his inner office a second, and came back out with his credit card, which he handed to the lieutenant. She graciously took it and jogged off to the mess. The colonel replaced her in her seat and addressed Samus, looking her on the level.  
"Samus, I don't know why someone might think that. But, I can put two plus two together and venture a guess. You are, without exaggeration, the best damn bounty hunter in the galaxy. Nymictis is the most wanted woman in the galaxy. If anyone was going to have the cojones to hunt Nymictis, my money would be on you. And maybe the second gutsiest person, who has no idea where Nymictis is, could not be faulted, in assuming you'd tracked her down. They'd follow you. Try to steal from you. The particularly stupid ones might try to hurt you. You follow?" She did. She knew exactly what he was trying to say and decided to jump to the cut.  
"And they're going to keep coming after me. As long as the bounty is on her head, it might as well be on mine." That made him happy. They weren’t her words, they were his. The ones he hadn’t spoken yet. They both just sat there, nodding to each other and smiling. The smile on her face was for her, but he could think it was for him. They spent a few minutes hashing out the details of the mission; the support she’d receive and her cut of the bounty. Lt. Mpmoth walked back in just as they finished. Her tray had two small cups of coffee and a tall cup full of thick, pink smoothie. Samus took a cup from the tray as she stood, nodded to the colonel, and then asked Mpmoth,  
"Think you can show me where the mess is?"  
"Of course." Samus took the other cup of coffee from the tray and handed it to Ettilson, who kept talking as they walked out.  
"Glad we could figure something out, Samus. I'll have Irene forward you the dossier when she gets back! I –" The door slid shut behind the women.  
“He’s a bit of a bastard, isn’t he?” Samus’s question was really more a comment.  
“The colonel? No, he’s just that way.” Samus just grunted in response. She understood the type.

~(S)~

Samus sat in the GFS Durango’s mess hall, thinking to herself. What is it about bounty ship food that makes it so appealing? When military rations are so famously bad, why did bounty food always taste so good. Or was it just her? It couldn't be. Samus counted at least a dozen other hunters sitting at tables. Maybe chasing pirates across miserable planets of dust and snow and swamp made anything taste good – but she was heading out, not coming in. Nostalgia then? Maybe. Or maybe it was generally a safe move to keep the most dangerous people in the galaxy happy. Whatever it was, she was there, like all the rest, to satisfy her craving.  
Lieutenant Mpmoth had excused herself after she saw the double portion Samus had taken, presumably to prepare that dossier. But, whatever the true reason, it left Samus alone to her thoughts. 159,000 ¤, no wonder people were going crazy about Nymictis. But this wasn't about money. She had a lifetime of savings. She just wanted Nymictis out of her hair. She had allowed the Colonel to take an outrageously large percentage, in exchange for ample access to Federation resources. She didn’t care what it cost, so long as it was done. Maybe people would see the reports and think she was getting soft; taking a smaller cut and more back-up. Maybe they'd leave her be.  
She considered getting a second tray – who knew how long it’d be before she tasted her ambrosia again – but decided against it. She set her tray in a stack on a trash receptacle and looked around. Some hunters were arm wrestling, and she thought about joining in. Better not though. She made her way back to her ship, her mind still wrapped around the question: why is the best food in any system always found in a bounty ship cantina?

~(S)~

Lt. Mpmoth hadn't yet sent the dossier by the time Samus got back to the Gyr, but that wasn’t a surprise considering how much information there was to sift through. She decided that her night had been long enough at this point and changed for sleep. The bunk in the Aria Gyr was tight and stiff, but a little discomfort helped build character. At least with the centrifugal spin of the Durango she wouldn't need to use the awful sleeping harness. But she’d had too much coffee, and didn’t want to be tossing in her sleep. She opted to grab a few sleeping pills from the medicine cabinet. She put them down with a swig of water, leaving the rest of the bottle in case she got thirsty in the night. She turned off the lights with a clap and crashed.  
She awoke to the intimate chill of a gravity wash: the slow ripple of normal space redistributing itself after an FTL jump. It was another ship arriving, a big one by the feel of it. Another Federation ship, no doubt. The only private vessels that could match that tonnage were ore transports. She went through the door to the galley and pulled open the skinny closet that hid her personal terminal. She logged in to see the blinking ‘new message’ light, and opened the receipt of her and Ettilson’s negotiations. Support of one corvette class ship: GFS Hallacrux. She folded the keyboard and chair back up into the closet and jumped down into the cargo bay, where she half opened the ramp. Poking her head out, she yelled at the nearest deck worker.  
“Hey! Was that the Hallacrux pulling in?” He put his hand to his head and relayed the question to someone else. Nodded to the intangible other, and yelled back up to her.  
“Looks like it!” She gave him a thumb-and-index OK and pulled her head back in as the ramp resealed. Back in the galley, her commlink was now blinking. Lt. Mpmoth had pinged her for a call. She set the device down on the counter and pulled a box of cereal from the cabinet. She went for a bowl but –  
“Oh.” They were all dirty. She hit the dialer on her commlink, and started setting dishes in the ultrasonic washer tank. It only took the lieutenant a moment to answer.  
“Samus, are you ready?"  
"I'm still waiting on that dossier." She could faintly hear Ettilson giving an order in the background.  
"We'll discuss that in a moment, right now you're free to move your ship to the Hallacrux. Their flight control will help you settle in, but..." There was a squelch over the comm, then it was Ettilson speaking.  
"Samus, the nature of this mission demands direct oversight. Mpmoth and I will be travelling with you to provide support. We only just got word, and are packing our bags now. Briefing will begin once we're underway. I've had Irene reserve a conference room." Behind him, the Lieutenant could barely be heard.  
"Oh shit." she whispered. But, she recovered by re-asserting herself. "Samus, head on over to the Hallacrux now. I'll come get you when it's time for briefing." There was a click and the call was over. There was a second, different click, and the light of the ultrasonic tank changed from red to green. Samus fished out a bowl, and its lid, and shook some of the mixed cereal shapes into a nice pile. She peeled a spoon off the fridge and hopped up to the flight deck. The Durango’s flight crew were waiting for her, and started the turn table around as soon as she hailed them. The Hallacrux’s were also ready, and before she could finish crunching through her first spoonful, her path lit up in neon blue stripes. She popped the lid back on her bowl a moment too late, as the magnetic clamps released her ship and the inertial shift sent her ship, and a few flakes upwards. Catching them out of the air with her mouth became a game as the klaxons announced imminent depressurization. Then it was silent for a moment before the doors flew open, and the great sucking void took her ship. Something hit her head. She couldn't tell what for the wild, spiraling course the Gyr's computer automatically followed. Everything slowed again a moment later as retro-thrusters prepared for docking with the warship. She peeled a cornflake off her face as she coasted back into port. She couldn't win them all.

~(S)~

There were a few idle hours before Lt. Mpmoth came for her. Samus spent them well; tidying up the ship and staring at sudoku puzzles. She had taken an anywhere pull-up bar to psyche herself up. The onboarding bell rang. Samus checked the camera, and could see the lieutenant waiting.  
"Lieutenant Mpmoth, I'll be out in a moment." She used the ultrasonic wand in the latrine to quickly brushed herself down. She checked the camera again, and hit the press-to-speak.  
"Lieutenant, could you take a step to your left, please? I don't want to crush you." Mpmoth complied, and Samus pulled the switch to lower the ramp. As she stepped out, the Lieutenant looked concerned,  
"Are you alright?" she asked. That was the problem with ultrasonic cleaning: it works fine on plastics, but could break capillaries if uncareful. Samus’s crows’ feet were tinged blue. There was a similar bruise on her scalp.  
"I’m fine, Lieutenant. Just washing up." Mpmoth nodded, and motioned for them to walk.  
"You can call me Irene."  
"Do you want me to?" It wasn’t proper decorum, but she’d grown used to ettilson’s discrepancies. It felt wrong to her now.  
"I don’t mind. You can call me whatever you like, I can’t stop you.” The lieutenant jokingly flexed. “I’m not sure there's anyone who could stop you from doing something if you really wanted to." There were a few, but Samus didn't like to think about them anymore.  
The two women made their way to the conference hall, where Col. Ettilson was ready with a slideshow. It was on a seemingly random slide and the colonel was talking to himself as they walked in. He reset the presentation and nodded for them to sit. Samus noticed a trolley in the corner with cups, carafes, and a box of teas. She elected to make herself a cup, when the room went dark. Emergency shutters came down over the windows. But there were no alarms, just Lt. Mpmoth standing at the panel by the door. This meeting was sensitive. Classified. The colonel wasted no time.  
"Nymictis is a pirate unlike any of her peers.” With a click, a picture of the pirate queen graced the room. It was a rough image: a zoomed-in still from security footage. Even then, Nymictis was small in the frame – she was a small person. But she commanded her men with composure, even amidst enemy fire. This image was aided by the crown of horn, rising from her keratinous brow. It leant her an appropriately regal quality.  
“She is more than willing to kill and pillage, but her attacks are always politically driven. Designed to spread chaos and so she can sink her talons in deeper. Her territory isn't as expansive as some clans, but we believe she plans to change that. As it stands, if her organization is allowed to continue as it has,” the slide changed to a star map, showing federation and pirate territory,” Federation analysts predict that within two decades her power base will be so secure, we'll have to begin acknowledging her coalition as sovereign. That opens too many doors for the other pirate clans.”  
"Can you imagine that?” Mpmoth interrupted, “Pirate diplomats. Ambassadors. Trade negotiations. Extradition powers?" Two stars lit up on the map, and after he harrumphed, she let the colonel continue.  
"These are the systems of Gimel, in Federation space,” the star blinked,” and Duaad, currently pirate occupied," the other star followed suit. The map zoomed in to Gimel, and dissolved into a diagram of a space station. "Several months ago, our pilot training facility in Gimel was attacked by an unknown pirate clan. The initial attack appeared to be a weapons raid. But something was off during the pirates’ escape." He clicked again, and the clinical diagram gave way to a scene of carnage. A starfield littered with ships and bodies: all federation. "There were no survivors in the defense. Every ship was torn apart, and not a single pirate vessel was damaged after they went into retreat." Retreat felt like the wrong word.  
"How,“ she asked,” were the pirates able to target your ships that effectively?" Ettilson changed the slide again, this time to a loop of security footage: a lone pirate infiltrating the station’s server room. No hacking was required, he accessed a server directly.  
"They stole our friend/foe shield codes. With them, they can not only target our ships as if they were unshielded, but they can broadcast our code, rendering our own targeted attacks inviable." Samus knew securing a shield code and distributing it to a fleet as dispersed as the Federations was no easy task. It had to be done by hand, and could take years. Hitting a training facility was a bold move, to be sure. They may have fewer defenses and be staffed mostly by recruits, but Gimel was deep in Federation space. That pirate fleet should have been caught long before reaching the station.  
“How do you know it was a Nymictis attack?”  
"It matches their M.O. And, any other clan would have immediately pushed the advantage. But there have been no major raids. Nymictis clan has only made one other confirmed attack on a federal operation: here." The star map came up again, this time zooming in on the Duaad system. "The planet Amenethis is home to an archeological research station, and not much else. They were studying an ancient city of the Chozo." The Chozo. Was that her connection in all of this? But this information was classified, how would anyone know? She still had questions, but the colonel continued, "The researchers were still just scratching the surface, but from what they had put together, the city was responsible for developing an end-all Chozodion super-weapon. We don't know if it was ever built, or if the plans remain, but we cannot risk Nymictis having both the weapon and our shield codes. She could bring down half the Federation before we'd be ready to respond." With a final click, the screen went black. Ettilson nodded to Irene, who went back to the panel and raised the lights and shutters. She walked back to Samus and extended a flashstick to her.  
"The complete dossiers are here. View them at your private terminal on the Aria. Keep them out of sight of crewmen. We don't want to scare them." Samus took the flashstick, but didn’t break eye contact with the colonel.  
"What was the point of bringing a federation ship if your shield codes are compromised?" Ettilson became flushed, but the lieutenant was quick on the draw.  
"We won't be able to send forces planetside with you, but don’t you prefer to work alone anyway? What we will provide is orbital support and we can serve as a distraction while you make your descent." Samus wasn't sure Irene fully understood the ramifications of a defenseless ship serving as a distraction, but she wasn't about to risk fracturing resolve. She nodded, fiddled with the flashstick, and nodded again.  
"Right, well. I've got some homework to do, so I'll get back to my ship."

~(S)~

The trip to Amenethis would take two months. Samus didn’t plan to spend all that time sifting through the pages on pages of information. The dossier was a comprehensive history of Nymictis clan’s 20 years of activity. She tried to keep herself busy elsewhere, it’d do no good to burn herself out. She frequented the gym to refamiliarize herself with the rhythmic stress she’d be subject to: running, climbing, falling, fighting. The training machines were fine, but sparring with the crew made for good multilateral practice. These distractions weren’t enough, and she remained constantly haunted by the thought of a Chozo weapon. She, more than anyone, was an expert on the damage that could be done with a Chozo weapon, considering that, technically, she was one.  
During her workouts, she had caught the attention of one petty officer who had made a rather interesting wager. Elex was his name, and that first week in the boxing ring he proposed she take him as an apprentice if he could land 3 solid hits. He was a funny kid to think he'd learn much following a 70-odd-year-old bounty hunter around. But maybe she'd need the help in a few years. She decided to humor him.

~(S)~

NYMICTIS CLAN DOSSIER (Abridged for Reader)

Reports of a Nymictis clan first appear in 25,62 GSY, but analysis of unclaimed pirate attacks pushes back their founding almost a decade. Tracking pirate politics is difficult. Best sources indicate Nymictis was founded following the destruction of Fark Clan: a small clan, long in decline due to inadequate leadership at the hands of terminally ill commander: Fark-Ohng III.  
Circa 25,54 GSY, Fark-Ohng III died. The clan's captains held council, and elected to fold Fark into a larger clan. But Nymictis, who had been the slave attending Fark-Ohng, declared herself commander by right of steel. After presenting evidence that Fark-Ohng’s condition resulted from her poisoning, she was accepted. In pirate tradition, she then lead an inaugural raid. But, instead of killing the colony and looting, she made the colonists swear fealty and established a tithe. Her first day as commander marked a new epoch in piracy. Nymictis has since greatly expanded her dominion to over a dozen confirmed systems.  
Nymictis clan poses a number of threats to the Federation. They serve as a gateway for legitimate colonial supplies to enter pirate hands. Their attacks are highly coordinated political maneuvers. Combating Nymictis operations is difficult, due to the corruption present in colonial government, and the high level of secrecy at which Nymictis operates. Maps of Nymictis territory are approximated. The true extent of influence is unknown.  
Nymictis actively recruits from all walks of life, including; other clans, Federation terrorists, and even Federation colonists.  
Less is known about Nymictis herself. Well educated for a slave. She likely was not born into the position. An unsubstantiated theory proposes that she was a student at the Keppler Academy, which Fark Clan raided in 25,48 GSY. Nymictis is not a name appearing in any student roster, but renaming slaves to remove person-hood is a common practice.

CRIMES ATTRIBUTED TO NYMICTIS CLAN (Chronological)  
25,56 GSY - Assassination of Governor Ha-Qing of Ytt. Promotion of Wockle Spenz for Governor, whose policy change lead to the Yttian Corporation War for mining rights.  
25,60 GSY - Destruction of the Galnestor Way Station. Rerouting traffic through space ways in Nymictis Territory. Causing the death of 43 aboard station. 76 vessels, unaccounted for. Presumed lost in space, without Way Station for refuel. Crew presumed dead. Total deaths: 612.  
25,64 GSY - Release of Galvinium ore stock pile lead to market crash in Bandetarria.  
25,68 GSY - Production of counterfeit Federation Identity cards. Dispersal of cards into Federation supply, and subsequent Mass Identity Theft.  
25,69 GSY - Impersonating a Federation Official. Theft of the GFS Mortana. Booby trapping.  
25,71 GSY - Sale of Weapons Grade Uranium as Reactor Grade, leading to the meltdown on Katran. Governor Lorrne died during an inspection. This is suspected to have been the intention.

END DOSSIER.

~(S)~

Samus massaged the bridge of her nose. Her eyes hurt. She'd been reading too long, and needed a distraction. She wanted to send Mikesh a message, but considering the circumstances, it was too dangerous. An FTL transmission would give away too much about their position and trajectory. She hoped he understood.  
What time was it? Was it too late for more coffee? She went for a sip from her thermos, but it was dry. In space, hours become days become weeks that dissolve into hours again. She went to refill her mug, only to find the carafe empty too. With a sigh she picked it up and started walking back to the mess hall for a refill. There was a group of crewmen playing cards there. Elex was among them. He tried to rope her in for a hand, but she was on a mission.  
"Sorry, Elex. One bet at a time." He was getting better in the ring, and had even managed to get her back open long enough for two hits the other day. But he was too excitable. He needed to learn impulse control.  
With a full carafe and pocket full of creamers, she returned to her ship.

~(S)~

AMENETHIS DOSSIER (Abridged for Reader)

Planet Name: Nenedeez, Duaad II (Colonial Designation), Houmenthis (Archaic, Liturgical)  
English Name: Amenethis  
Native Population: Colonial Chozo (Extinct), Wild Planet  
Classification: Terran-3, +

Amenethis is the second, and largest, planetary body in the Duaad system, between the smaller Urty (Terran-1,-) and an expansive asteroid belt. The system lacks a Jovian protector body, and as a result, Amenethis is regularly struck by asteroids. A number of these have become trapped in orbit as pseudo-moons, but none of individually sufficient or collectively cooperative mass to create a tidal rhythm. The planet is mostly (74%) covered by a shallow, liquid-water ocean. A single continent, also referred to as Amenethis, lies latitudinally along the equator. The planet lacks solid-water caps, but permafrost is present at altitude. The continent is dominated by a central plain of desert barrens, called the Reptine Waste, but in the north and south forest of the native Kukas tree prevail. Translation of Chozodion records indicate an environmental collapse occurred in the recent past, leading to a bottleneck in wild-life diversity.  
The planet was first identified by Federation colonists in 24,48 GSY. It was deemed a viable option, despite inhospitable conditions, due to the mineral wealth present in oceanic meteorites. However, the Chozo City, now called Ken'ned was discovered soon thereafter and the planet was abandoned due to superstition. Following the events of 25,3X GSY (Second Space-Pirate Invasion), Federation interest in Chozo Technology lead to the planet being rediscovered in 25,46 GSY. A permanent Research Facility began construction in 25,48 GSY after initial findings were bountiful and promising.

[CLASSIFIED]  
In 25,62 GSY, researchers translated Chozo texts describing a program in development at Ken'ned entitled ‘Metroid II.’ Fearing the discovery could trigger a third pirate invasion, the planet was erased from public records. The council of Governors was hesitant to continue action. Funding for the operation was cut, but no direct action was taken, until 25,69 GSY, when a religiously-motivated rogue agent attempted to assassinate the research team with a bomb. There were minor casualties, and the primary entrance to Ken'ned was sealed. Research continued, but access to areas related to Metroid II was blocked. Any current Nymictis Clan efforts to obtain Metroid II are still blocked by this collapse.

END DOSSIER.

~(S)~

It was week eight of the trip, and they'd be arriving in Duadd soon. Samus was sitting in the Gyr's galley in a pair of sweat pants and t-shirt. Her eye was set to magnify, extending out like a jeweler’s glass, as she meticulously examined the arm cannon she was cleaning. It was the legacy of a thousand craftsmen, all strangers; unknowingly working towards its perfection. She finished polishing the lens she was holding, and began to reassemble the gun. She started with the barrel apertures, sliding together the fine teeth of the shutters into the tetrahelical pattern reflected in her genetics. She and the gun were one: molded by battle, the legacy of the Chozo. She blindly reached for the cannon's carry case, and pulled a sleeve of her sub-suit out of the false bottom. She stretched it over her arm, followed by the cannon's two support bands. They automatically resized to fit snuggly on her fore-arm. She flexed, and the cannon slid into place, covering her hand. She relaxed and it retracted. She flexed again, and this time cycled through its four firing modes: Pulse, Spin, Focus, and Diffuse. She relaxed, removed the arm bands, and reached back into the case for to put the rest of her suit on. She pulled out a little bottle, giving it a shake into her hand, but nothing happened.  
"Damn it." Out of talcum powder, and it was the only way to comfortably wear this thing. She packed her equipment away, tucked the case under her arm, and walked to the ship's store.

~(S)~

"Baby powder?” Her request had caught the clerk off guard. “You might have better luck in the infirmary, but let me check." She was left alone to stare at the racks of power bars and energy drinks. She made a face at one using a younger likeness of herself. How old were these? Or were they still using that ad? Either option made her uncomfortable. The clerk came back with a smug look.  
"Tada!" He shook a little bottle in his hands, which he slapped onto the glass counter top. "Anything else?"  
"Uhhg..." She looked around and picked up a bag of gummy metroids, covered in alien writing. "Are these the cherry ones?"  
"Umm." He took the bag from her hand and flipped it over. "I don't know how to read Rillish, but I think this symbol," he showed her a small, triangular red glyph, "means strawberry. Still want them?"  
"Yeah, that's fine." She handed him her card and pulled open the packaging. The overwhelmingly sweet syrup made her choke as it escaped. Pulling two out, she offered one to the clerk, who politely declined. She took back her card, and the receipt, and with her purchases, left for the locker room. 

~(S)~

A few midshipmen had slipped into the locker room to examine her equipment. Each hoping to find some secret of combat prowess they could use themselves. But the majority of the free crew had gathered to watch the sexagenarian’s seemingly endless assault on the hardlight targets. Samus was well into her third hour on the training deck. Walls and pits opened randomly around the room, as projected enemies fired stun bolts. She blasted them mercilessly, only dipping into cover when she needed a break. The low wall she currently hid behind began to recede. She shifted her weight, making ready to sprint across the bridge that dominated the room’s geography, before it too could vanish. She charged out, swinging her arm back and forth to fire at the targets appearing on both sides. One moving target just barely escaped her shot, and retaliated. When the bolt struck her shoulder, she spun off the bridge into a pit.  
She tried to catch her fall, twisting in the air. But all she managed was to take the whole force of her landing on one foot. Her knee guard connected with her unprotected chin, and she nearly bit her tongue in half as the leg gave way below her. She sat up and massaged her shoulder, but recoiled from the heat. Stun bolts dissipated too fast for it to still be hot. Someone was firing live rounds. The room continued shifting. She spat blood and dove into an emerging alcove. It became a hall, and she ran down it, taking care to avoid the stun bolts now. Firing her gun would give away her position. But she risked the small light to flip open her wrist computer. Quickly sorting through the options, she set the chroma key of her suit, adjusting it from the stand-out-yellow to the ambient slate. She flipped the screen shut and melted away as he clambered back up to the main level of the simulatorium. Whoever was hunting her – Pew! Another hot plasma bolt fired. This one only missing her arm by inches. Whoever was hunting her had a thermal visor. She proned herself and began to crawl, watching the walls and their regular movements, looking for anything irregular: organic. There! A figure was walking only a few meters from her. But the room was shifting again, and a wall was descending to part them. She took her chance, charging out and jumping over a barrier wall, but was spotted. Her attacker rolled into a pit that was being closed over, and vanished. Samus stopped a second to find her bearings in the new arrangement.  
"Ack, shit!" The shout came from the far side of the room. Too occupied with Samus, her attacker had walked into a hardlight ambush. She sprinted for the sound, hoping to catch the bastard while still stunned. No luck. Instead, she found herself rising, as the floor tile below her became a wall. Well, it was some luck. Now she was above the maze, free to leap over walls and attack like a hawk. She skipped over a few alleys, but saw nothing. Instead, she found herself looking directly into the glass of the observational mezzanine. She nodded to her audience, and a few, hesitantly, waved back. Then a wry smirk overtook her. She counted an extra, disembodied face in the crowd. Her attacker had caught onto this wall running idea, but didn't count on his reflection in the glass. She pulled her cannon up, and began charging a blast. The crowd turned from bemused to panicked. As they backed away from the glass, her assailant thought he was sneaking up on her. She let go of the energy ball, which rocketed forward like a panther, and with as much grace as a cat, bounced off the shielded glass to strike its target behind her. He fell backwards, landing on his ass 3 meters below. She followed, landing smoothly.  
"Simulation end." she ordered, as she looked down at the man whose chest was still smoking. She offered him a hand as the walls lowered around them. "Our wager was in the boxing ring," she said. Elex peeled off his helmet and started unzipping his combat vest. He massaged his chest while assessing the damage to his armor.  
"You hit like a train." was all he said back. She was going to say something else, when a lieutenant marched up to them.  
"Petty Officer LeGrande, what is the meaning of this!" Elex froze as his superior started winding himself up. "Why are you attacking Ms Aran? Did she invite you into this training exercise? Who authorized you to use live ammunition? Answer me Petty Officer! In. That. Order. Preferably!"  
"Sir, Ms Samus and I have been sparring in the gym, sir. We had a friendly wager. I saw how she was performing in the simulatorium and decided to surprise her, sir. Real battles aren't against holos.” he stammered,” It was a prank gone wrong… sir."  
"A wager, Petty Officer? You attacked this woman as part of a wager? You do know that tontines are illegal, don’t you, Petty Officer?" Two MPs entered the room and took up positions behind Elex. When the Leiutenant was done, he turned to her.  
"Anything you'd like to add Ms Aran?" She nodded in the negative, and the lieutenant, with a wave of his hand, ordered himself, the MPs, and Elex out. Elex's response had been shrewd. It was true, in a real battle there were unwelcome surprises, but she wondered if Elex had actually ever been in a real battle. He'd wouldn't get off easy. This intrusion was serious. That said, the Lieutenant's show had been just that, a reminder that serious punishment was always a possibility. He’d probably be fine.  
Later, after a shower, meal, and a visit to Elex in the brig, as she was filling out her report on the incident, Lt. Mpmoth paged her. One hour until arrival. Samus was to report to the conference room again for final briefing. She grabbed her freshly laundered sub-suit and pulled the shoulder pads over her head. The armor straps tightened around her, as the computerized system synced with her through the bio-suit medium. She slipped into her boots and strapped on the shin guards, and the bracer that housed her wrist computer. When she was ready, she made her own way to the conference room.

~(S)~

The Lieutenant and Colonel were waiting for her inside, along with a new face, a Lyrian. The Colonel introduced him as Flight Officer G'thaar. Samus couldn’t help but notice Irene’s delighted starring. It continued, even as Col. Ettilson lowered the shutters.  
"Based on our information,” the Colonel said,” the Flight Officer has been plotting a course for you to land as close to the pirates' base as possible, without putting yourself at risk." G'thaar nodded, and began to speak from his hooded mouth.  
"We'd like to eliminate visual tracking, as much as possible…” Ettilson summoned him a wireframe depiction of the planet system, but the flight officer ignored it. Instead, he illustrated the plan with elaborate hand gestures. “…So immediately following deceleration, you'll take off and arc around to the dark side of the planet while we continue around to the light. Make your descent until you’re below radar, then follow the twilight. We'll move into position in high orbit over their base and prepare an orbital bombardment to offer you additional cover while you land." He ended by pounding his palm with a fist. Ettilson clicked his remote, and a topographic map appeared on the screen.  
"You'll be landing here," the Colonel said as red dot appeared in a wide valley several kilometers south of the target. "It's an abandoned port, in the Eastern Reptine Waste, built as a supply depot before the research center was finished. They ferried in materials through there before they built the platform in the highlands. They even had a small town for a while."  
"How do we know it's abandoned?" She asked.  
"We don't. But they shouldn’t expect an attack," Lt. Mpmoth said. "And if they do, they'll focus their defenses around their base, on the Ken’ned mesa. Then they'd have the high ground against any attack from the lowlands."  
"Irene is right. Nymictis clan is small. They don’t have the manpower to spread out. It’s the tactical thing to do." Samus met each of their eyes, though the Lyrian quickly averted his. She looked back at the Colonel.  
"If you're certain that's the best point of insertion."  
"I am." he said with confidence.  
"Alright.” She didn’t have to argue. “If we're all aware of the risks associated with this plan, let's move on." Irene took the remote from the colonel.  
"Externally, the Research Center can only be accessed via a narrow cliff-side path, here." As she said it, a red line, zigzagging its way up the cliff appeared on the map. "However, based on mapping efforts by the research team, we know the complex extends out from under the mesa. You'll likely be able to find a secondary entrance that would bypass security at this choke point."  
"Mpmoth, you're talking to the Chozo's ultimate warrior! She'll take on the whole Clan for fun!" Samus smirked. This man might be insane. He had a tic, she had noticed it before, it was a weird circular motion of – Wait! Was he counting money? He was set to make a megabuck a head for every pirate she eliminated. He wanted her to be a juggernaut.  
"Ok," Samus said, "Point A, Point B,” she looked at Irene, “maybe find Point C. Anything else?" Ettilson clicked his remote again, and now she saw a schematic of an orbital bombardment shell.  
"Samus, as we agreed in our initial negotiation, the Federation will be providing you supply drops during your mission. Because direct resupply will be difficult, our 'bombardment' will contain a mix of live munitions for show, and duds containing the caches. You'll want to look out for them."  
"They won't be the most convenient to reach,” Irene added,” but the supplies are guaranteed."  
"Any more questions?" Col. Ettilson asked. None. They all shook hands. She thanked G’thaar, and Samus made her way back to the Gyr. 

~(S)~

Take-off during a gravity wash is dangerous. It's too fast and random for computers to handle, but your own senses could be just as hampered. This window makes It the perfect cover for a covert entry. At the end of the day, your best choice was to never try it, and if you had to in a pinch, be lucky. Samus, unfortunately, couldn't count herself the later. A lifetime of crash landings and ambushes had worked that sense out of her long ago. As she felt the inertial shift of the Hallacrux's deceleration, she prepared herself to break every rule in the pilot's book. She switched control to full-manual. She primed her engines without disengaging the magnetic docking locks. She closed her eyes. When she heard the hangar doors open she disengaged the locks and prayed.  
The Aria Gyr flew out like a frisbee, caught in a flat spin. Her eyes still tightly shut, Samus forced herself not to vomit. It caught in her throat, and she was left gagging on the Gs. She forced one hand up and blindly slapped at the console, trying to reactivate the navigational computer. The high-G alarm started beeping frantically. She could feel the blood being pulled out of her extremities. If her eyes were open, her vision would be just as black. Her desperate fingers found the last button in the row, and she was greeted by the rising-tone chime of the navigation system's boot-up. Her head snapped violently from right to left in the sudden reverse shock as the computer cancelled out the spin. Her chiropractor had warned her not to do this again. She wouldn’t sleep well tonight. She reached for the auxiliary air supply and woke herself back up with a blast of pure O2. Just one deep breathe. She wanted so much more, but knew it was dangerous. She checked her status on the view screen, and adjusted to follow the descent plan plotted by the Navigational Officer.

~(S)~

You could tell Amenethis was a wild planet, because it lacked the inverted constellations created by a million city lights. As she passed into the planetary umbra, she dimmed the cockpit interior lights. It didn’t afforded her any advantage, but it felt right. Her descent was smooth and gorgeous. Starlight played across the soft waves of a grand reservoir she passed over, as she made her approach. The towers of the Chozo city mingles with the natural pillars of rock in the westward valley. As she neared the depot, she ran brief passing sweeps to orient herself.  
"Blank?" She switched to a different scanning method and it reported back the same. That’s not good. She switched the view screen to visual just in time to evade a stray rock pillar. She could fly by sight if she had to, but finding her landing site in the dark without full navigational capacity would be a problem. It spoke to a worse problem. They know. They knew she was coming, they knew how she'd do it. Nymictis recruited the most diabolically genius, and they had out- and under-smarted her by taking a calculated risk to cover every base. Samus pulled up on the stick, to peel away from the trap. She had to improvise; create a third solution they hadn't anticipated.  
In the distance, she could see the bombardment begin. Meteor streaks from above were quickly met with a flurry of responses from below. The blasts of cannonade pierced the desert night. But there was a light unlike the others. Her eye widened.  
"Shit!" She screamed, as she pulled into a hard roll. "Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit!" Two missiles flew past her bow, and she ploughed through the smoke trails. What just happened? She had received no target lock, and her shields were set to cloak. Something was wrong. She needed to get out of here. She was too low to properly maneuver, but higher would let them better track her. How were they tracking her? She was screwed either way. She pulled up, only to feel two more missiles slam into the ship’s belly. The explosion lit up the night sky, and the sound rolled like thunder across the plain. It was followed by a second fireball, as the Gyr crashed into the desert. The pirates celebrated that night. Skaggr, the gunner who had dealt the killing blow was raised on his comrades’ shoulders, as they sang to his glory.

~(S)~

Samus found herself floating in a great emptiness. Her head was swimming. If she could move, she couldn't tell. There were no points of reference in this place. A tingling crossed her body. She shuddered as it pulled upwards into her head. It felt like the sun, slowly extruding itself through her skull. She could hear the hiss of her blood boiling. A hiss that slowly became familiar. Her pain manifested itself as a spectrally floating Chozo, crackling with energy. It stared at her blankly. Was she not what it had expected when it sensed another Chozo presence? The ghost was joined by another, and then another. It became a crowd surrounding her. They conversed amongst themselves in the squawks and caws of the birdmen, until they reached a consensus. They began rocking rhythmically. Their hissing became a humming chant. Slowly, the crowd became more aggressive, directing their energy into grand, arm-swinging chops. Their articulations became a form of anointment. The first among looked at her and began to laugh, as the crowd dissipated. The first-and-last grew larger, until it dwarfed her. Taking her up in its arms, it cradled her, like a baby, and in her mind she could feel singular word they had been chanting. Hope.

~(S)~


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How does one write about how boring it is to be stranded in the desert, without being boring? I don't know. Sorry if this chapter feels a bit rushed.
> 
> 05/10 ~ Added 4 pages to aid pacing, expand on some ideas, and consolidate threads I was originally going to make their own chapters.

PART II

"This isn't about money, or revenge...  
This is about getting some answers."

She awoke suspended, hanging in her safety harness. She could feel gravity using her weight against herself, cutting into her shoulders with the harness straps. She was blind, even in her mechanical eye. She reached to adjust her eye piece, but found it crusted over with blood. She felt her forehead, which was similarly scaly. This was a great start. A dozen questions ran around her head, but now wasn't the time for them. She started sucking on her finger, compelling herself to drool into her open palm. Smearing her hand over her human eye, she washed away the dried-over blood. It was gross, but she spit again. Vigorously working the saliva into the cracks. She opened her eye to see the awful bloody slob hanging off her face. But she could see.  
She was still in the Gyr's cockpit. The shattered view screen offered a scenic vista of stone wall. Bracing herself she hit the release on her harness and slammed into the side console below her. Winded, she suspected from the pain that a few ribs were cracked. She rolled over and took stock of her position. Provided her ship was in one piece, it was on its side, leaning over, top-side-down. She reached for the radio, stealth be damned! She needed to check in on the Hallacrux. But the radio was under her. Carefully, she shifted her weight and flipped the switch.   
"This is Hunter Aran to GFS Hallacrux."   
Static. She repeated,   
"This is Hunter Aran to GFS Hallacrux."   
But still only static. She tried again and again, dialing through different emergency channels, but they were all being jammed. She left the radio on, just in case, and focused on the matter at hand: getting out of her crashed ship. She could climb onto her chair's back, then jump and grab the edge of the ladder well. But if she pulled herself over, there'd be a significant drop waiting for her. But she had to get in there, all the ship’s exits were located in the read hull. She climbed onto her seat and jumped. Her fingers caught the edge and she pulled herself up into a straddle. Below, the galley was a mess: food and plates were piled against a wall, the bathroom door was hanging off its rail, but there were no apparent hull breaks. That was a relief. She hooked a leg into the ladder, then an arm. OK. Slowly, she worked her way into the galley.  
She couldn't reach the Mud Room door from here, and even then, it was sealed. That wouldn't be an issue if she had all her gear, but the bag was in the cargo bay. She’d have to settle for the equipment on her; two hands and a dirty eye piece. She dropped onto the kitchen counter, turned, and dove through the bathroom door.   
She cried out profanely when she headbutt the toilet bowl. Rubbing her scalp, she pulled sanitary towels out of the medicine cabinet, and some commercial painkillers. She skipped the med kit for now. Her head wound wasn't that severe and high-grade painkillers would dull her senses too much. Wiping the blood off stung, but it was bearable. She pried the prosthetic out and scrubbed it vigorously. Then scrubbed out the socket just as well. A rusted lead could become infected, and she'd lived through too many near calls to die to sepsis. She plugged her eye back in and cycled through its filters. When she reached X-ray she stopped to learn a little more about her position. She crawled out of the bathroom, and confirmed there were no major breaches. Also, the ship was not buried; there was space beyond the hull.  
She decided to take a fifty-fifty risk.Climbing into the bedroom, she pulled her pistol from the upturned nightstand. She leaned out the door and blew out the panel controlling the airlock door. It neither opened nor remained shut, instead only sliding open a few centimeters. She'd have to force it open herself once she got up there. She made a mental note to find some way of preventing this situation on the next Aria Gyr. It didn't feel like she'd be keeping the II much longer. Maybe magnets? Magnetic boots? She pushed the matter from her mind. She needed to focus. She had silverware, plates, bowls, cups, various packaged foodstuffs; kitchen accoutrements. Was there anything she could use to reach the door? The door. She jumped back into the bathroom and ripped the door off its rail. It tumbled into the pile and she joined it, but neither stayed for long. She hoisted it overhead and flung it onto the counter, then awkwardly followed it by running up the rounded hull. As she pulled herself up, she took care not to knock the door back down. She carefully lifted it up and slid it forward, until the opposite corners had caught on the wall and counter. With a kitchen knife, she hacked a notch into the countertop so the door wouldn't slide on this end. By pressing it into the floor-now-wall she created the most dangerous ladder ever, but she climbed it like the trapped animal she was. When she reached the summit, she slowly stood up. She was still short a few decimeters . Jumping was an awful, dangerous risk that would at best twist her ankle if she fell.   
Samus did it without thinking about that. The door fell away below her, as her hand caught the gap and locked on. She dangled for a moment before swinging her other hand up, and then, with one hand on each edge, began the arduous task of prying open the door slow enough that she didn't lose the tension supporting her weight. It crawled open just a bit more, and she lunged, fitting her arm through. She began feeling for the control panel on the other side. Fifty-fifty meant this time was a sure thing, right? She hit the button and felt the door try to shut itself on her arm.   
"Gaah!" She began pounding on the panel, but the pressure only increased. She curled up and started kicking the door. If she could knock it off its rails, it'd stop closing. She hung there, kicking and pounding until something broke.  
It all broke at once. The door came off its rail, the panel tried to open, and the only thing holding her in place fell away to join its twin. One arm numb, she scrambled to re-secure her position. A wild kick put her ankles through the gap. She threw her legs open and was left doing the most uncomfortable, inverted sit-ups. This was not the dignified kind of start her missions normally had. She pulled herself into the airlock, into a table position with her back arched over the open doorway. She crab-walked to safety, and relaxed. The canister holding her power suit was waiting for her, untouched. It’d been too long since she’d practiced putting on her suit in unconventional gravity. She pulled it from behind the plexi barrier and slid on the space-age plate. It pinched and weighed too heavily until fully integrated with her biosuit.   
Finally mission ready, she keyed open the cargo bay door and began taking stock. She wasn't hauling anything, so only a few crates had been displaced. Her duffel, which she'd hung on the far wall, was still there. Navigating across this space was easier, the web of support beams were like tree branches, evenly spaced and well aligned. She grabbed her bag and began pulling her equipment out like a curious etecoon: scout drone, survival knife, hydro-pellets and ration crackers, medi-spray, and an assortment of other small gadgets she'd collected over the years. She hooked all the pouches onto her belt and made her way to the door controls. With her X-ray scan, she could see the space on the other side was free. She stood on the wall and lightly tapped the panel with her foot. The door groaned and began to open slowly, the hydraulic systems not accustomed to functioning under such circumstances. Once itovercame the realignedcenter of gravity, the door fell open completely. The whole ship shifted as it swung and slammed against a sheer rock face. Samus had to catch her balance to avoid falling into the canyon maw that opened before her. A maw her ship was slowly sliding into, now the doors had pushed it loose. She could hear the screeching of metal on stone.  
Despite her ‘success,’ the canyon below offered no place for her to escape. She’d have to find another way. She had helped design this ship. She knew its weak points. The cargo bay was the only intended exit.  
She spider-monkeyed her way back into the cockpit. The steel screams continuinged all around her. A maintenance shaft running along main drive core could access the emergency exhaust chamber. If the engines overheated, the exhaust port would open to vent the manifold, and, potentially, her. It was suicidal plan. She could be eviscerated by the turbine, roasted in the exhaust plume, or die from fall after being ejected from the ship. She needed to get better at planning ahead. She couldn't keep scraping by like this -- Maybe she needed an assistant? If Elex still wanted to be her apprentice and live in this kind of luxury, he was welcome to it. She’d have to add a second cabin to the Gyr III. Then again, maybe he wasn't the best pre-planner himself. She realized she'd scuttled up into the maintenance shaft and already reached the access point. She let her body continue on its self-preservative autopilot while she avoided thinking about her actions.  
She rolled up into her morph ball and tucked herself into the corner, against the plate that would release. Remotely starting the engine, she still felt the instinctive urge to pull her legs in tighter as the motor began to spin below her. As it reached speed, she began dropping bombs, which were sucked into the whir of blades. It was hot, but not hot enough for the reinforced plating of the Gyr’s engine. She dropped a superbomb and prayed. In two stages it combusted. The turbines glowed red, then white with heat. The internal temperature rose, testing the limits of her power suit’s shielding. She felt herself growing faint. The engine’s heat sensor triggered, and the emergency port’s bolts exploded open to flush the heat.  
With a pop she was launched, arcing high up to where she could see the winding curve of the valley, before crashing down onto a small ledge. She allowed herself the luxury of a moment for herself, as she lay there on her back. A moment to appreciate that she was still alive. Her heart pounded heavily. Her skull throbbed. The screeching came to a halt as the Gyr re-lodged itself lower down the canyon wall. For the first time in ages, she was left with nothing but the ambient sounds of nature. She closed her eyes and waited for her breathing to slow.  
When she opened them again, she was met by the gaze of a mountain cat looking down from a higher ledge. She raised her cannon and fired a warning shot to dissuade the creature. It left. She pulled herself up and looked around. She shared the ledge with a narrow cave and a few barrel cacti. The sun was high, striking down mercilessly on the thirsty red rock.  
She could climb up to the other ledge, but she really didn’t want to. That cat was probably still hanging around, and her ribs still hurt. She didn’t want to aggravate them. Without many options, she sucked in her gut and squeezed through the crevice. Her stomach curled in a tight knot, and she realized that, given she'd flown in following the dusk, and it now seemed to be mid-day, it must have been at least 20 hours since she'd last eaten. Probably more. She pulled a ration cracker out of their tube on her belt, and tossed it in her mouth. She pressed the hard wafer against the roof of her mouth with her tongue, and waited for it to soften up.   
She switched her eye piece to 'low-light' and proceeded into the cave. It was a wet place. Trickles of water poured past her and into the wash. It was a good sign. She continued following the cave upwards until she reached a small grotto. The tunnel seemed to terminate here; another bad break. She knelt to drink, at least she could take comfort in that, but the water was foul. If the pool were fed from a spring she could expect it to be metallic, but this wasn't. Spring metals would have killed off the bacteria living here. This had to be collected rain water, and that meant there was still more to the cave system she couldn’t see. She reached for her flashlight and turned it onto high intensity. Then pulled her face mask up and took a deep breathe.  
She stepped into the rancid water, which was thick and warm, and started looking for another path through. It was a small gap, almost right beside her. She squeezed through and found the water cooler and cleaner almost immediately. After swimming through to the other end of the u-bend tunnel, she pulled herself out of the water, into a much more pleasant place. It was a small, shady alcove on an otherwise unforgivingly steep cliff. Short reeds and mallows had made it their sanctuary. Flies buzzed between flowers and toady blobs gave chase. Looking out into the canyon, she could see the bend around which hid her ship. She checked her wrist computer, to make sure she could still relay messages through the shipboard radio. If she could eliminate the source of the jamming, she could let Lt. Mpmoth know to send a rescue.   
Across the chasm, she spotted some small goats, leaping between platforms she couldn't make out, unaware or uncaring of the pit below them. In the distance she could see the mesa rising above the horizon. It was enormous. Closer to her, were the barrels of an anti-aircraft battery, and a radio tower – likely the sources of her troubles. If she was going to get out of this mess, those would be her first stops. She looked down the canyon wall before her.  
"I hope those goats know what they're doing."

~(S)~

The sun was long in the sky and slow to fall. Samus tried to call to mind how long the days were on Amenethis, but it’d do no good to think overlong on the matter. It would only make the hours drag longer. But the sun did seem to be trapped in this day, like she was. Below her, the rock was course. She could feel its rough, microscopic edges, even through her suit. Fitting her hands into the plentiful, windworn cracks, she carefully lowered herself into the great ravine. She tried to favor her right side; her left was swollen and angry. She had loosened the straps on her chest plate to let it breathe, but it only added to her trouble.  
Clinging to the wall like an oversized bug, and desperate to make a better friend of it than the pit below, Samus deployed her scoutbot. It crawled above her, compensating for the blindspot created by her jostling armor. Through her eye piece she could see the lurking miasma below her, over her shoulder. It was disorienting, but helpful. It encouraged her to take it slow and concentrate, when her mind was still racing with questions.  
She continued in this fashion for another thirty meters, until she reached a point where the stone tabled out, creating a small path. More grasses and succulents had tucked themselves into what nooks they could.She casually examined them for any edible quality, but finding none, let them be, and crunched another lonely nutrient wafer.   
The beautiful weather continued unabated, killing her slowly. Despite all the sun’s glory, the miasma below still clung thickly. All the heat managed to do was distill the most vile of vapors, momentarily raising them to her level.

The day drew on: a series of crunches and pops; in her mouth, in her bones, and beneath her boots. The sun rose and fell again, and the searing heat gave way to desert chill as shadows grew long and multiplied. Nezumi rats ran forth from their burrows, some seemingly diving into the abyss in mad search, while others fought for territory. Overhead, a swarm of shriek bats were embraced by the night.  
She didn’t stop. She didn’t make camp. Her first night on an alien planet was too important to jeopardize with personal comforts. She still didn’t know how she’d been shot down, or how long she’d been unconscious, or if anyone knew she was alive. She had to make the best of a bad situation, and kept walking.  
She reached a wall the next morning and began her reascent. The cliff wasn’t half as tall as the others. As she planted her first foot, something tingled in the back of her mind, a tak-tak sound followed, like stone hitting stone. She cautiously continued, hoisting herself up the wall in a series of half leaps. She kept quick pace, lest the rock wall fall out beneath her. The sound persisted all the way. Intermittently, it seemed to grow closer or farther . She was halfway to the crest, the sound slowly becoming just another constant in the desert, like the bright sun, coarse rock, and stabbing pain in her side. Then a pebble bounced off her shoulder. She carefully fixed herself in place, locking her elbows, knees, and shoulders.  
“Blegh-egh-eg!” She looked up just in time as a goat came barrelling down the slope, slamming to a full stop in her face. It bleeted again, and Samus screamed in surprise and let go, falling only to catch herself a few meters later with a sucking pop that rippled through her body. Her breathe involuntarily pulled from her in a gasp of pain, and in anger, Samus swung there by her nearly dislocated arm.  
“Stupid! Goddamned! Goat!” She began muttering to herself, listing all the ways she could cook the animal. She could hear its tak-tak following her down, knocking more pebbles from their precarious seats.   
“Go away!” She started yelling blindly as she pulled herself back up, “Go! Away!” but mindless bleating was the only response.  
By the time she reached the cliff top, she was being pursued by a full choir of bleeters. Pulling herself over the edge, her face was locked in a scowl. She found herself once again face-to-face with one of her capricious onlookers. This one didn’t bother with their traditional greeting, it being too busy chewing on the cracked skull of a fallen comrade. A horrific thought sprouted in her mind, and she slowly raised her cannon. Are these creatures carnivores? Mentally, she began leafing through the planetary dossier, but nothing came to mind. She slowly side-stepped around the animal, making sure to leave a wide berth, arm cannon raised and locked on the slow chewing menace. As she finished her 180, she faced a herd of capricious onlookers standing now where she had stood. They made no move, only staring at her with their awful eyes. She fired once, and the concussive blast dispersed the crowd. Her peace of mind secure, Samus turned back to the path before her and --   
Tak-tak. It came again.  
Samus spun back around, ready to deal with the stragglers, but found nothing. She began backpedaling, slowly broadening her sweep, the sound continuing, until she was scanning the entire cliff wall above her. She stared at the wall. Something had to give. She lowered her gun after a full minute. But as she walked away, she heard the sound one last time, and the patient growl of a lewcat high above her. 

The cat pursued her all that day and the next.  
On her third night, as she made camp in a small clearing, she found it pacing a shelf far below her. She had settled in a wadi where the cacti and grasses were joined by climbing ivy and bushes, some having thrived enough to be called trees. The burrows of stone worms dotted the walls, and small birds joined the menagerie she had seen the night before. The dew grew heavy in the shade of this place. As she set to her business, leaves unfurled and night flowers bloomed. There was a reason the Chozo had favored desert worlds for colonization. Sniping two ground rats, she dressed them with her field knife and set them over a small, brush-fed fire she’d built by the cliff’s edge.  
She leaned back to count the stars, which shone without impediment, and winced when she accidentally brushed her broken ribs. They felt better than they had the first day, but were still tender. Reaching around to unbuckle her armor; peeling back her biosuit, revealed the ugly, blotchy pattern of purple and brown. Beside the dusty yellow of her suit, it looked much worse than it was.  
Extending the probe from her wrist computer, she made ginger passes of the wound to make sure there was no infection. Everything seemed good for now.She slathered on a layer of sanitary gel before wrapping herself tightly. Her eye twitched involuntarily as she cinched the bandages.  
Pulling off the other sleeve of her jacket, she got back up and began stretching while dinner cooked. She quickly passed into a meditative state, aided by the crackling fire, passive chirping, and distant growls of wall-wyrms. She hadn’t yet caught sigh of that breed of predator, and as she pulled upon her quad, she prayed to Torizo she wouldn’t. But they seemed omnipresent in deserts the galaxy over, and she knew she hadn’t seen her last.   
Rocking back, she held herself in boat position as she stargazed. For lack of moons or city lights, they shone like nothing else. She could make out a few constellations from Chozo star charts, distorted as they may be. She counted Impe the warrior, and Eps, her bag of magic herbs. Though neither her student, Spathar, or nemesis, the dragon Imet’nt could be made out.   
She rocked forward and rolled, following through and flipped into a full handstand with only the slightest discomfort. From here she could make out a few more; Deuti the Scholar, and En-di the Carrion Bird, and the Scepter of Leadership, the Uzer.  
Lowering herself back down, slowly kneeling, she finished with a little warrior pose and found herself surrounded by a forest of fan-shaped mouth pieces. Accepted by the world around her. She let go of the spark of focus she held in her mind and pulled the clip out of her hair, sighing deeply as all the tension in her forehead fell away. With a sigh, she fished a skewer out of fire, and began picking apart the rat, pairing its dark meat with her vittle crackers.  
She carried the second rat with her as, she climbed the short bluff behind her camp. On the horizon two sets of lights blinked. To the south-west stood the red tower-lights of the radio jammer. Keeping good pace, she could be there in another three days or so. To the east, soft amber crashlights, like newborn stars, cried out for their mother. She’d make it through this, and so would the Gyr. But Karl would be heartbroken to see her like this.  
Looking back skyward, she search for the shiplights of the Hallacrux. Had they survived? Or had they too been shot down? The question bloomed again in her mind, how had she been shot down? She looked south again. Those red stars held all her answers. She buried her fire.

~(S)~

The valley carried on, zigging one way, only to zag back half a klik on. Her day was uneventful and it let her mind wander, a dangerous thing. But there was a great beauty to be found in the desert; the soaring sky and sentinel cliffs were monuments to the creator’s vision.   
The Chozo had been incredibly fond of deserts -- deserts and jungles -- any place that made their lives more difficult. A notion often mistranslated as honor: overcoming self imposed difficulty. The truth was more complicated than that. Samus had once spoken at length to a professor studying the Chozo, who had asked for her help in using a different translation borrowed from old hellenic sources. Arete, he had said, was the premise of being the best in one’s niche. She agreed that it summed up the Chozo... mostly. No translation was perfect, but some could be useful.  
The Chozo had believed fully in universal truth and purpose. That everything had its place. And they had driven themselves to extinction seeking their own. They transplanted their native environs to every planet they colonized, hybridizing and swapping as they saw fit, seeking to create the perfect ecosystem.  
Samus had lectured at several universities to further this interpretation of the culture, but she wasn’t a philosopher, and definitely not a Chozo philosopher. She always found herself facing down her nemesis, tenured professors who had their own preconceived notions of Chozo honor. There were days she couldn’t face them, with their questions she couldn’t answer. Some days that left her wondering if maybe the Chozo had valued strength above all else, after all, hadn’t they made her strong? She was the poster child that anyone could fight.  
She contemplated her own arete a moment. She stopped and stared at the sedimentary walls of her winding prison. There were so many disparate parts, washed together and settled before being hardened and worn away. Shells and stones and mud. Perhaps that was what made her Chozo, the fact that she didn’t know her place at all.  
Samus kept walking.  
She stopped a moment later to watch the slinking tail of a wallwyrm disappear around a corner. Doubling back to keep a good space between the serpent and herself, Samus found her path sinking closer to the miasmic abyss.  
When the noon sun sat fat in the sky, she couldn’t tell. She had lost herself in a labyrinth of red rock and green fog. The canyon floor was littered with rain fill and corpses. The fog was thick, and clung to her suit. She pulled her pistol from its holster, afraid the fog would jam her cannon armature. Primordial wails echoed between the warped walls; the cries of all the unnameables that made their home in these depths. But Samus saw none of those things. By her wristcom she marked evening, and found a windworn divot she might call a bed. After checking it for snakes, she began the process of settling an easy mind. Pacing her breaths, counting her knuckles, in the distance, she could hear something dieing. Her sleep passed too quickly.

~(S)~

It was dark where she was in that other place, where the spirits had spoken to her before. But she couldn’t see them now, which was worse in a way.Their chant still filled her mind. Hurry. Hope. Hurry. Hope. HURRY. HOPE. HURRY! HOPE!  
And then, in a moment, even that sound was overwhelmed by a staccato knocking, like gunfire. She saw the face of her mother there. Only for a moment, before the ghosts tried to wrench her back. But she was there: On Kaytuel. Then it was all gone again. She could only feel the distant presence of those waiting.

~(S)~

She awoke to find a stonepecker staring her down. The red-crested bird swizzled its tongue in irritation, her waking movements an unwelcome interruption. The bird gave her a knowing look and flew off. It was auspicious: the bird was sacred to Torizo, and the Chozo had transplanted them to every planet they settled.  
Samus pulled herself out of her den, popped a water pill into her mouth, and started retying her hair as she resumed her trek.  
She hadn’t walked far, when she came to a broad well. At the center lay the ragged corpse of a wall wyrm. Some great claws had broken through leathery hide and bone, leaving the creature a shredded heap. As she examined the remains, she could see where the wounds still festered with dark acid. Disconcertingly, there were no chew marks. This had been a territorial conflict, and it would be best for her to move on.  
A snap behind her, like branches underfoot, followed by the quickdraw clip of her holsters unbuttoning. She raised her pistol, as she slowly strafed around the corner, taking sure-footed steps. Two shriekbats were cannibalizing their fallen comrade in the settled haze. She reholstered her gun and walked away. When she was long gone from there, a lingering howl came winding down the valley.

~(S)~

When her wristcom marked sundown on the fourth day, she found herself standing at the mouth of a narrow cave. She consulted her map and saw she was, surprisingly, still on track. The cave may lead far from her goal, but the path had yet to lead her astray. Her low light scanner traced the hidden walls of black halls. The stone was rich with nodules of rare ore -- the reason so many had tried to tame Amenethes. The deeper she travelled, the more she found. After an hour, she found herself sidling around a great subterranean ravine. Stiff winds buffeted her, a promising sign, and welcome too. Even here the fog was thick. It pooled beneath her and oozed in the planet’s belly. It warped and rolled in the wake of deeper-yet denizens. She carried on, until a spark of light played on the wall far ahead. It was bright. Bright enough to interfere with her low light vision. It was joined by a mechanoid hissing, alive, but wrong. The sound came at once from afar and behind her. She was trapped. There was no place to hide back the way she had come, she knew this. She charged. She had to swallow the primal yell that welled up inside her. When every grain of her being demanded it. She sprinted down ophidian slopes, only hearing her hunters’ cackles.  
The seconds felt like minutes before she spotted the narrow alcove branching to the left. She dove, resetting her chroma key and kicking herself closer to the wall before holding herself completely still. She allowed a shot of sedative now, for the first time, to slow her racing heart. And she prayed.  
Two creatures flew past. They were fast, lanky, and steeped in mangy shadow. Neither noticed her hideaway, but Samus waited another five minutes before braving the tunnel again.

She began to worry as the hours only drew her deeper. The walls began to drip with ichor and were covered with molds. At their thickest, she found herself sucking in her stomach to slip through slick blockages. And through one slip she found herself in a rough-hewn, square room: unmistakably artificial. The walls were decorated with the worn pattern of Chozo hieroglyphs. Like all the Chozo’s legacy, they did not wear their age well. All that remained looked like childish scrawl.   
At the head of the room, sitting in stern observance was a statue of Iriset, the eternal primarch. Bones were piled at his feet. And she recognised the offering: predators starved. She stood before the undying lord, eyes unbroken from his.  
“None shall perish who is in your hands,” she whispered solemnly.  
Two passages split from the chamber. One the intended entrance, the other leading into the sanctuary. She followed the eastern, that rose only to descend again, before she stood in the chamber of ablutions. The walls were cracked, and the whole chamber rent. An earthquake had long ago seized the temple. The room was barren, without the markings of scripture or icons. It was a place of self reflection and focus. And there, at its center, lay the body of a Chozo, resting against the fountain of purity. Though mummified and twisted by time, it was still recognizable as one of her brethren. Squatting to his eye-level, she scanned his twisted face, which still bore the ceremonial paint of a civil servant. His gorget hung loose under his beak. Pulling it from his neck, she brushed the dust away and scanned the unit, hoping it might inform her situation.

~(S)~

TRANSCRIPTION : The Last Song of Jyn-Ku “Pale-eyes”, the Chamberlain  
Witness: the way that is sealed.  
T’was done by my hands, and so many others.  
Now we all are here.  
The promise is unfulfilled, but not broken.  
We are trapped here.  
When will hope come?

~(S)~

Samus looked at the bird with fear. What ever had befallen him must have been horrific, mind shattering even. Stepping up, she saw that the way forward was indeed blocked off. The door had been filled with makeshift masonry. Whatever lay beyond, Pale-eyes had been desperate to protect, however futile his effort. She pulled away one of the ramshackle stones and the way practically cleared itself. She stepped into the next room confident.  
She stepped right back out. The sanctuary had become a nest to ghoulish things. The same breed that had passed her by earlier. Dozens lay there that she could see, possibly dozens more. Even in the stillness of sleep their bodies twitched violently.  
Samus followed the western passage up barely carved steps into a moonlit hall and emerged on a terrace carved low on the valley wall, where the fog hung but lightly. The sound of water drew her ear. High on the cliff behind her, through a narrow gap, a thin trickle bubbled up and over. A narrow staircase followed the cascade, and at its end she found herself in a lively grotto. Small roebuck drank from the pool, and warwasps flit between the orchids that hung from the craggish walls. She refilled her water pills, and washed her wounds, and saw through a small cleft the lights of the radio compound. Her misadventure at last come to an end.

~(S)~

Samus waited two hours, watching as pirates made their patrols. Floodlights washed the earth rhythmically. The camp had been converted from the old ansible station: two buildings sat catty corner around the projector in the middle of a half-moon divot. Platforms had been erected between them to access the tower, and walls, gates, turrets and towers had been added on in concentric rings. She could see power lines where they had been laid down to accommodate the ‘renovations.’  
As she made her first passes, she made note of where the pirates had planted motion sensors, and planted her own. There were five gates surrounding the station. The largest controlling entry into and out of the arena like valley. The next two stood at the compound wall itself on either side of the courtyard. One bisected the canyon into two, patrolable halves, and the last protected a small passage that lead under the main compound.   
It was there she planned to slip in unnoticed. The area was too heavily guarded for her to hope assaulting. But if she could disable the primary and secondary generators, she wouldn’t have to shoot anyone. With the power down, she could hail the Hallacrux, and then the real fight would begin. Col. Ettilson had the answers she wanted, and he was not a man to part with them easily.  
Her final preparation was to plant a satchel of plastique on a spear of rock. Then she nestled herself between two boulders are the far side of the encampment, where she could watch over the hidden passage like a gargoyle. It took seventeen minutes for the patrol to arrive. They saw nothing out of place.   
She heard the scanning ping of their motion tracker. Depending on the model, those things ranged from worthless to paranoid. Nymictis seemed to lean toward the later. Samus sat there, teeth grit, eyes tense, paralyzed by anticipation when she heard a low, rolling growl.  
“What was that?” asked a pirate, a Thalassian . He whipped his head around, looking for something, before checking his scanner. Panic gripped the hunter’s mind. Nutrient crackers were useful, but not filling. Her stomach continued its gurgling. Below her the pirate performed some brief, percussive maintenance before one of his comrades, a Gnigmar woman, slapped it out of his hand, raised her weapon, and started scanning the bluff. Samus couldn’t prime her weapon without giving away her position, but her hand was forced. The pirate woman barked a command to the third in their ensemble. It was the Nymictis Clan battle tongue. Samus couldn’t understand it, but the prompted pirate began speaking to someone via the encrypted radio on his back. Samus shifted her weight, peeling herself away from the wall. The Gnigmar continued tracking the ridge. The growl came again, deeper this time. She stopped her rifle right on Samus’s position.   
“Son of a bitch,” said Samus, echoed a moment later by the pirate.  
“Son of a bitch!”   
With a bellowing roar the lewcat announced its presence as it soared over the bluff. It struck the radioman, sending him plunging into the ravine. Samus gasped, but held her ground at he surprise. The lewcat now turned on the remaining pirates, who had opened fire. The cat shirked off the blows, and lowered itself in anticipation. Its seven inch claws dug into the stone as the telltale shimmy worked its way down the beast’s spine. The Thalassian grabbed his remaining comrade’s arm to pull her away. When she didn’t move, he ran. The lewcat’s claws buried themselves deep in his back. Samus winced sympathetically. Then in pain, as her footing slipped.  
“Aagh!” She managed to catch herself, but her side burned anew. The stone pressing into her tender flank. The yelp alerted the last pirate. A look of realization shot across her face, and she ran.  
Flexing as she allowed herself to fall, Samus primed her focus beam, firing after the woman. The first two shots went high. The third deflected by the pirate’s shield. The lewcat finished shaking apart its prey, and turned to the source of sound and light.  
“Well, shit.” Samus leapt back to the cliff wall, scrambling to escape the charging beast. But she couldn’t climb as quickly as the cat, and it was beneath her all too soon. She didn’t have the time for a race now. She dropped herself, landing a falling kick on the cat’s nose before grabbing ahold of the rock wall again. Shocked by the offense, the creature screamed, lashing out with tooth and claw in a wild, indignant fury. It fell, and Samus allowed herself to drop again, landing a second strike on the creature’s exposed belly.  
That was a mistake. As she landed, she found herself with nowhere else to go. She felt those claws deep in her gut as she was swept away. With violent momentum she was carried into the ravine.

~(S)~

Five red lines marred her suit. They felt like red coals that had been shovelled into her belly. Lying in this tepid pool did them no good. Stiffly she rose, holding herself together, and took her bearings. Piles of bone and rot filled the valley floor here, as she had seen before. From one such pile, she spotted a ichorous, black smoke rising. That seemed wrong.   
High above, she could hear the klaxons begin to wail. The Gnigmar woman had raised the alarm, and soon there would be pirates pouring after her. She had to move.   
Clawing at the wall for support, she moved away from the smoking heap, when a second sound arose. An unwelcome hissing crackle, that slowly intensified. Before long it matched the pirates’ siren in intensity. Behind her, lights emerged from the smoking pile. She watched them, rising through the plume to becoming menacing eyes: cold as ice and fierce as thunder. Eye contact was a mistake. The fully realized ghoul turned towards Samus and began to walk -- if it could be called that. It spit and popped into and out of place; immediately becoming dissatisfied with the one and assuming another. Its grasp on reality was tenuous at best. It twitched just as violently in its active state as those she had seen slumbering. She kept her eyes on it, but didn’t stop walking. Considered raising her weapon, but didn’t. She just kept walking, hugging the wall for support, and tripped over a soft body.   
She was on her back, and in a moment the thing stood over her. It’s narrow face betrayed no emotion, nor any other sign of intelligence. Its mane rose with the crackling energy that possessed it. Frantically pushing herself backwards, she found her hand grasping an intimately familiar form.   
In desperation she yanked out what she realized was a flare gun and fired straight up. A triad of magnesium charges slammed into her pursuer’s torso. The monster retreated, screaming, and the third flair flew high into the air, rising above the canyon wall.   
Samus pulled herself up and heard a voice below her. Her saving grace had come from the radioman. He was dead, but his radio chattered excitedly. Someone on the other end was so happy he was alive. Overhead, she heard the fizz of jetpacks. Two jet troopers were lowering themselves into the fog. It became a little more bearable in their wake, where the flame burned off the rancid air. Their spotlights swept the valley floor, missing her and settling on the radioman’s body. They lingered there only a moment, before snapping to the ghoul. She didn’t need to understand the battle tongue to get the gist of, “What is that?!” It only took them a second to attack. But it was a second too long. Their blasts only seemed to enrage the thing.   
With a scream, the ghoul leapt to the troopers, striking one down and then the other. It clung to the pirate’s already limp form as the thrusters lost control. Samus lost sight of the abomination in the cloud of engine smoke. She only heard the explosion as they crashed. Limping to where the other had fallen, she pulled the bloodied flight harness from his body. He gurgled in resistance, unable to speak for the sucking wounds. She leaned in close, whispered a tender, ”I’m sorry,” and plucked the security pass from his belt. Her coup-de-grace was efficient.   
Stepping over the dead pilot, she took her bearings from the canyon wall, she stepped clear of the overhang. From the wreckage she could hear the ghoul stutter step. She didn’t wait to see if it was coming for her. Pressing down hard on both buttons, she shot up out of the burning, toxic gulch. She saw the pirate base bathed in light. They had congregated near the center of the compound, where gunshots and battlecries had covered her intrusion.   
She carefully glode back down to a ledge and swiped the ID chit across the sensor pad. She unbuckled the jetpack and carefully lay it aside by the gate. As useful as it might be, they had a dire tendency to explode. They also put too much stress on her shoulders, and she was too old for that. Only young people carried their stress in their shoulders.   
Passing through a series of rooms and doors, she found the generator. It was manned by a single pirate technician, whom she put out with a precise jab. With all ‘threats’ eliminated, she set about dismantling the generator. Of course, she could have just flicked a switch, but she needed to be sure it wouldn’t be turned back on. If she did manage to contact the Hallacrux, tt wouldn’t do to have her conversation ended midcall. With that in mind, she set her cannon to focus, and began cutting away at the housing. A line of stroking pistons greeted her, and she fed them the technician’s spanner.   
Before going, she cranked the control dial to max and made her way further into the compound. Behind her, the engine eagerly chewed, before making increasingly unpleased chuffing noises. As Samus stepped out into the courtyard, she heard a krrpop, and then the lights went out. All the commotion dumbed down as the blanket of darkness fell fully. Only one noise could be heard from the far end of the compound, that of tooth and claw ripping their way through pirates caught unawares. In the corner of her eye, Samus saw the radio icon of her HUD flash to green, just long enough for her to send out a hail before the icon turned red again. And in that moment, all the lights came back on.   
The second building, opposite her, looked like a spider. Makeshift poles had been lain across the courtyard to support the dozens of power lines that radiated from it. Weaving her way through the tangle, Samus crossed the courtyard, as if she were performing at the ballet. The few pirates she did encounter, she dispatched in a blitz of cannon and kata. She didn’t fear firing. There was too much noise for her to stand out.   
As she reached the far building, she heard chatter within. She hunkered low to the ground, ready to face the last resistance.  
Inside, three pirates stood, their backs to the door. Bloodied and barely standing, the loomed over their trophy, the hacking, shaggy form of the lewcat. One of the pirates placed a cavalier boot on the cat’s shoulder, while he posed with its teeth. His compatriots took photos.   
The first two didn’t even realize what had happened to them before she was bearing down on the third, bloodied knife in hand. It was with his venomfang rifle that she eviscerated the second generator. It became a smoldering heap under her.

~(S)~

Lt. Mpmoth had retired to the mess hall while she waited for word from Samus planetside. There was little she could do but wait. She’d asked G’tharr to keep her posted on tactical information while the orbital bombardment began. It was a great risk they were taking, moving that close to an enemy who had an unimpeded eye on their vitals. She dipped her spoon in the thick jellied vegetables. The ship shook with the first wave of return fire. From a nearby table, some engineers shot her dirty looks. The colonel had been arguing with the chief of engineering earlier about bringing an undefended craft into harm’s way. The colonel had been, expectedly, disappointed by the chief’s lack of patriotism, his unwillingness to do or die. They’d left the matter unresolved, but everyone on the ship knew with whom they stood.   
The Hallacrux being a warship, naturally had a layer of defensive plating, but that wouldn’t last forever, and it was dangerous for a ship to take hits to physical armor. Shrapnel could cause more problems in the finer mechanisms. Modern war was built on counter-incoming systems. The accuracy of the Hallacrux’s point defense gunners would be on trial today.  
The ship shook again, and Irene watched her jelly shake. She forced the bowl down and left the galley, seeking solitary refuge elsewhere. On the way to her bunk klaxons began screaming red-alert alarms, echoing down the corridors as emergency bulwarks began sealing. There had been a breach. The ship’s magnetic field failed and the lieutenant began floating after an errant step. No one had thought to change emergency power settings, despite there not being shields to bolster. Irene waited until she had reached the ceiling -- if it could still be called that -- and pushed herself back off, towards the nearest terminal. With one hand on the support bar, she pulled her access card over her head and plugged it into the open slot. Opening the ships diagnostics tab, she saw where plate integrity had been compromised in the outer engine casing. They were leaking heat.

The Hallacrux retreated to geosynchronous high orbit. Through her bunk viewport, Irene could see the streaks of stray shells. She watched as they petered out, and eventually stopped altogether. It was a tense half hour -- not her first in combat, but they were always tense. She didn’t allow herself to relax though, even after the barrage had ended. Even after she had popped two zen-pills. She waited for the corridor to re-magnetize, then made her way to the colonel’s office. She tried hailing Samus, but to no luck. Not even the Aria Gyr’s homing beacon could be spotted.  
Still, it wasn’t until the second day of radio silence that she began to worry. 

The lieutenant marched down to engineering. The halls were filled with engineers, greased and tired, carrying spools of wire, torches, and extension cables. Irene tried to avoid their eyes, but in a confident way. When she reached the aft deck she found one of the coordinating officers and made herself clear -- and loud enough for all the NCOs to hear.  
“Someone needs to teach me how to weld.” The warrant officer only stared at her. He would blink, she thought, but Fomorians didn’t have eyelids. “I have EVA training. I can be out there, but you need to teach me how to help.”  
“You don’t need to do that. We have specialists trained --” She cut him off.  
“We’re leaking heat. Nymictis doesn’t have orbital spotting platforms, but if our exhaust train continues to expand, they won’t need them to spot us. Your specialists can be fixing that, while the rest of us repair power structures.”  
“I’ll... have to discuss this with the chief of engineering.” And with that, she was dismissed. It was admittedly a most unorthodox request, but she was getting bored sitting in her bunk.

Apparently word got around -- Ettilson paged her for hourly reports, insisting she focus on her own job.  
“Let the eggheads do their thing.” But until Samus radioed, Irene wouldn’t have anything new to say.

With all this free time, she decided to get some practice in. She made her way down to the firing range and began a regiment of mowing down hard light targets with small arms. She took out all her frustration on projections of the galaxy’s most wanted. She wanted to help but couldn’t. She wanted to fight but couldn’t. She felt helpless -- no, she felt robbed.   
She emptied the magazine and reached for a second clip before stopping herself. She returned the rifle and made her way to the brig. She passed by the mess on the way to fill her thermos with tea.

Petty officer Legrande was sitting dejectedly in his cell. The way he looked at her was filled with confusion, curiosity, and terror.   
“Do I know you? Are you my lawyer? Am I being charged?” Irene had no idea what the officer had done, only that he’d become a friend to Samus while she was on the ship. The news of her disappearance hit him hard, but he seemed ultimately optimistic.   
“She’s done worse,” he said. He sipped from the cup of tea. “Have you read some of her old adventures? Vanishing for months at a time.” The lieutenant didn’t want to burst his bubble, but all those times Samus had been alone, nobody had known she was “missing” in the first place. Irene nodded,  
“Of course, do you think I’d be here otherwise?” He smiled.  
I mean, yeah,” he said, “me too.” She felt her pager buzz and got up.  
“I’ll let you know once we hear from her.” She held out a hand for the cup to her thermos. Elex threw back the last of his tea and choked. He wheezed as he held out the cup for Irene. “And whatever you did, I’m sure you’ll be fine. It takes something serious to get court martialed.”  
“I shot at Samus Aran.” Irene hoped the door had closed between them before her face could betray the horror in hearing that.

At the colonel’s orders, she continued trying to hail samus, but there was no response to be had. Once the power structure had been restored sufficiently, the probe cannon was activated. Scouts deployed to photograph the region. But the first two were shot down before they could activate. The third managed to reach the designated landing site, and the image it sent back was of an empty landing pad. As abandoned as it was a week ago. She wanted to stop counting days, and found herself counting other things instead. The number of cigars the colonel puffed through, the pages of the welding training manual, the glares she still received everyday. All of them, slowly counting down.  
Late one night, she closed her manual -- There wasn’t much point in it. She wouldn’t be certified until long after she’d be of use. The colonel had called it a wasteful effort, and he’d been right. She needed to learn to let go like he did. Find something else to occupy her mind with. 

On day 5 an engineer was injured during EVA. Medics were carrying him in from the suitport and his friends followed close behind. When one of them saw her, he threw something at her face -- a comic book? Had he been carrying this around? A Samus Aran comic... 

On day 11 Irene was sitting at her desk, calculating additional costs of their operation. Nymictis’s extraction had been anticipated to be a five month deployment, two months in, two months out, one month to capture the pirate queen. They were now a full third into their scheduled operations phase, and hadn’t even heard from Samus. They hadn’t accounted for the heavy casualties of their initial deployment, or this extended silence. Another week and the colonel would have to make a call. If they were going to ask the captain to stay, it’d require sending a mission failed report up the chain, reflecting poorly on all of them. And on the off chance that Samus had survived, she’d be stranded on a desert planet until a second mission could be deployed to recover the security codes -- if that happened. She felt a buzz in her pocket. She didn’t feel like dealing with the colonel’s hourly pesters, but he’d only be madder if she ignored him. It buzzed a second time... That wasn’t the colonel. She fished it out. There was 1 notification.   
“IN-LRC SA”  
Irene choked on her tongue as she scrambled to dial in the channel on her desktop comm. Holding the communicator to her ear, she desperately began calling out.  
“Samus? Samus?” But there was only the white noise that had pervaded the airwaves. Her pocket comm buzzed again, the familiar two tone alert of the colonel. She pulled it out and flipped open the panels  
“Report?”  
“I just received a short message from hunter Aran.” The colonel was too quiet at this news.  
“Are we sure it’s samus?” What? “What if the pirates are trying to use her radio to trick us?” Was he really convinced that was a possibility?  
“Shouldn’t we at least try?” She asked.  
“Very well, but display caution. We’re not moving this boat until we are 100 percnt sure she’s alive. If it is the pirates, I’m calling it off here.”   
Irene spent the next 4 hours listening to dead air, waiting for the ping of a second voice...

~(S)~

The dawn sun began pouring through the doorway as her radio piped up again. Samus pulled two two doses of painkiller from her belt, as she sat down next to her only constant companion in this hellhole, and gave him a scratch behind the ear. He licked his lips in complacency until his tongue grew too heavy.  
“Samus! Samus?” It was Lt. Mpmoth, pleading through the radio. They had survived.  
“I’m here.” She said, as she pulled the syringe from her side. She sounded so cool and collected and suddenly became very self conscious about the Lieutenant realizing she was high on painkillers.  
“Samus, we’d thought you had died. What happened?” She sounded genuinely concerned. But perhaps it was just professional courtesy. Either way, it was nice to hear a friendly voice. She flung the empty syringe at a dead pirate’s head.  
“My landing was compromised. I was shot down. Crashed in the desert, and only just now disabled the radio jammer.” There was a pause on her end, perhaps to think, perhaps to converse with Col. Ettilson. More likely the later. She took the opportunity to begin applying antiseptic gel to both their wounds. When the pause drug on too long for her liking, she spoke up.  
“Any thoughts on that, Colonel?”  
“Samus?” the Colonel called, “You said you were shot down. How was your ship’s defense-field compromised?” Oh-ho-ho-ho. Ballsy of him, she thought, or cowardly. He may just be protecting a lie above him. He was too by the book of a man.  
“You tell me, Sir. Does the Federation have a copy of my ship’s end private encryption that might have been compromised?” There was a long pause as he thought up his lie.  
“That’d be a massive breach of trust,” he stammered, “Samus.”  
“Because it seems to me there’d be no other way for my ship to have been shot down. Unless you want to tell me some pirate got lucky using dumb bullets.” Then there was another, longer, even more awkward pause. It seemed they were at an impasse. She shouldn’t have pushed so hard, she still needed Ettilson’s help, and pissing in his cornflakes wasn’t the answer. The Lieutenant who broke the silence.  
“Samus, we’ll look into the matter of a breach of security on our end, in the meantime, do you need a repair drone deployed?” She hadn’t expected the offer so early, and she wondered if the Lieutenant was undermining the Colonel to mend relations. Keeping her stuck on this rock was his only guarantee she’d complete the mission. She didn’t think her honor would carry far for a man like him.  
“That’d be appreciated. I can transmit the Gyr’s position and --” he didn’t let her finish.  
“Unfortunately, it won’t be that easy,” Ettilson interrupted. There it was. “Nymictis still has an active anti-aircraft battery near your position. We won’t be able to safely deploy a drone so long as those cannons are operational.”  
“Copy that, Hallacrux. Transmit me the battery coordinates and I’ll be on my way.” She’d never cared for poker. It was a decidedly un-Chozo game.

When Samus had finished tending to their wounds, she gave the lewcat a final pat, and left him to recover. She had managed to earn a few more scrapes in the process, he in particular hadn’t cared for the stapler she used. At then end of all things though, she though the effort had been worth it. Her intrusion into this land was only temporary, and she couldn’t blame him for wanting to protect what was his. She restocked her supplies from the Clan’s makeshift medbay and readied herself for what lay ahead.  
Her map showed her a clear path to the space depot that was to be her landing site, and opted to pass by on her way to the battery. The path was short, wide, and cleared. A road. As she stepped out of the bunkhouse, she was disappointed to see there was a scout bike missing from the garage. Somebody had gotten away. That would bite her in the ass down the line. She put it out of mind for now, and mounted her own bike. From the depot it’d be another three days to battery. At least she’d have someone to talk to this time.

~(S)~

The depot was a quaint settlement. Buildings of Federation and Chozo design cohabitated on the edge of the Reptine Valley. The great city of Ken’ned began there, vast and dense. When the time came, she’d have to leg it again. For now, she parked the bike by the warehouse and made for the office.  
The office building had been shot up something fierce. She was gentle with the door, fearing it would fall off its hinges. She didn’t care so much what condition it was in, so long as the air traffic computer was working, but she’d rather not attract unwanted attention. Unfortunately, the computers were dark. She didn’t see any damage to the unit themselves but the power had been cut. Swapping to her X-ray vision, she traced the main power lines to the a basement closet. Sure enough, she found the breaker tripped. It was simple enough to --  
THUD!  
Someone. Hit her. With. A shovel. The galaxy’s greatest bounty hunter slumped.  
“Oh god. Oh god!” She came-to a moment later to a shrill voice worrying over her. “I killed Samus Aran. She was probably coming to rescue me! Oh God!” With a grunt, she rolled over. Her attacker, still in a tizzy, defensively raised his shovel again. The access pass on his lab coat read “Marvin.”  
“Are you going to hit me with the shovel again, Marvin?” At the sound of his name, his face became childlike.  
“You’re here to rescue me?” The shovel clattered on the ground.  
“I’m here for the pirates. But about now I’m thinking it couldn’t hurt to tie you up too.” He smiled meekly. His lips seemed to stretch too far when he did, and he wavered self-consciously. How long had he been here? Was he alright? He didn’t take his eyes off her, like if he did, she would vanish. Eventually, he put out his hand, and she took it.

Marvin had been stranded for three months.  
“They could come at any time!” He had been a scientist studying the Chozo ruins when Nymictis invaded. He and several other scientists had fled, but he was the only one left. For three months he had gone without power or any of the amenities it brought. He hadn’t seen any patrols for the last two, but the fear persisted. After all,  
“They could come at any time!” She stared at him, long and hard that time.

~(S)~

Her travel had become significantly easier, her only preoccupation now keeping out of sight of the clan’s patrols. They had grown increasingly common as she moved closer and closer to the battery.  
It was late the second day, and she had stopped early to make camp. She was piling brush over the scout bike, when her radar was pinged. It was a small, faint beacon, not too far from her position. Close enough, she decided, it was worth checking out. She finished hiding her camp, and made the quiet journey through the dusk.  
It took her a moment to find. The beacon was even better hid than she was -- she walked past it several times before she found the narrow crack of stone through which it hid. It was in a small chimney of stone. One of the Hallacrux’s supply drops had threaded the needle and landed here. A conventional orbital bombardment shell sans warhead. Samus unsealed the main cavity and withdrew the cache. It wasn’t as large as a warhead would be. It had sacrificed significant volume to the protective foam casing. She made a note of where she had left the scout bike and settled in.  
Unscrewing the canister, she poured out the contents onto the sand: a sudoku booklet, a pack of gummi metroids, and a short note from Elex (though not in his handwriting). How did he know she’d find this one? Had he put these in every cache? There was also a refill of nutrient crackers, and a small package of dried fruit. She ripped open the paper packaging and popped a freeze dried wedge of Jaca into her mouth. She closed her eyes to enjoy a sweet moment of satisfaction, before opening the puzzle book and... she didn’t have a pencil. She checked the canister again, and found a pen. Bastard.   
She pulled off her helmet and set it on a shelf above her, looking down. With a click she turned on its flashlights. Pen in hand, she set about a relaxing evening. Something well deserved after a week stranded on a hostile alien planet.

~(S)~

Sitting cross-legged in the shade of a Kukas tree, Samus watched the pirate encampment; her eye piece fully telescoped. The battery sat on the northern crest that defined the reptine valley. The two main cannons, each a whopping 60cm in diameter, protruded like binoculars. They watched vigilantly over the city of Ken’ned, which sprawled below. Lower on the ridge there were facilities surrounded by two wide rings of conventional guns. The downward thrust of two passing cargo ships gave her a moment to intimately inspect the dirt here, before she sprung back up. They circled the compound and landed in an area cleared and designated an airfield. Crew and supplies were unloaded. The troops traded high-fives, chest bumps, and coin-for-goods as their compatriots moved to take their places aboard the ships. She watched as the supplies were transferred to two central warehouses.   
She traced her path across the flat yard, until she found the central control building. The guns’ targeting computer would be there. If she could disable it, she would eliminate the pirates’ combat advantage. The squat shack sat halfway up the rise, in a nest of gantry. Higher still, a path led to an observatory.  
The encampment was calm. The pirates’ only concern was the upkeep of their equipment. She feared that distance though. It was too far to walk without someone spotting her, but the scout bike was too loud. She would be heard immediately. There was the occasional thunder of test fire. But it didn’tlast long enough. Slowly, a devilish idea came to her. She hailed the Hallacrux.   
“Good afternoon, Samus.” The Lieutenant answered immediately. Her tone friendly. They had spent quite a few hours chatting idly the last few days. It was a welcome change of pace.  
“Good afternoon, Lieutenant. I’ve reached the battery, but I’m not in a position to infiltrate. Tell the gunnery officer to target my position and begin bombardment.”  
“Samus, we aren’t in range to provide effective coverage. And we’re still making repairs; We aren’t in condition to close the gap.” Samus knew that.  
“I just need a distraction. Fire from your current position.” She also knew that the Colonel would want an explanation. She could hear him interrogate Mpmoth from his desk. All she could make out was, “Just do it!” Ettilson’s voice came full force over the radio a moment later.  
“Miss Samus, I hope you know what you’re doing.”

~(S)~

Forty-five minutes later she waited, one foot planted. The other straddled the scout bike. She could see the pirates mustering. The wail of a siren rippled over the plain. High above, specks were falling.  
Within the ring of guns, every pirate pulled on their earmuffs, or the special equivalent. Hoods, head scarves, and plugs donned by muscle memory. Gallinians cocked their heads to seal their auditory canals. Samus muted her own audio inputs, and was left with the sound of her own breath echoing in her skull. She kick-started the bike and ripped across the cracked earth as gunfire boomed. Samus passed through the camp unimpeded while everyone’s eyes were on the sky and their ears full of sod.A network of drones served as supply lines pushing ammo carts across the field. Just to be sure nothing looked out of place, she parked her bike in the garage with the rest.   
She walked under the first line of guns...  
And straight through the second. She hooked her arm into the loop of a beltlift and rose, cannon ready, to the upper decks of the battery. Technicians idly went about their duties, conducting inspections and maintenance. She took care, moving around and over the blocks of equipment.  
The open deck was divided by chest high half walls. She clung to them, one hand always on the ground, feeling for oncoming footsteps. The fire control room was the only area sealed off. The great twin cannons sat over it, like a dragon jealously guarding precious golden microchips. She peeked around a corner before rolling up and pinballing her way down the aisle. The door to the server’s antechamber sealed behind her.  
It was dark. The only light filtered through the door’s reinforced window. She took another step and crashed to the ground. Her eyes filled with blackness. Her ears ringing. She felt heavy, her chest crushed. She felt everything until she felt nothing at all. It was inhuman, the hand that reached out to drag her away. The animal that lived in the back of her skull. It was breaking every bone in her arm again and again and again. Samus dragged herself into a corner and ripped off her helmet before she began heaving. Hunched over on all fours, she felt for any rag she might use to wipe the snot and tears from her face. She could barely breathe. And when she had exercised all the pain, she slumped and let herself feel human again.  
A still weak hand groped for her hemet and pulled herself up against it. She coughed on post nasal drip and began examining the room with her X-ray vision. The computer was there, but surrounding it were four armored emitters. Even looking at them gave her vertigo. Behind them all she could see a heavily plated pipe climb the wall and continue past the room. Somewhere up there would be an anemometer and a link to the high altitude weather balloons, feeding data back down to the outpost.  
Samus swiped her stolen passcard and the door unlocked. It slid open in anticipation, but she held still. The shadow of a technician slipped into the room at its odd angles. Pulling herself up onto a cabinet like an armored gargoyle. Praying they wouldn’t notice her. The bobbing head crossed the doorway, and when it had, she let herself down easy. Curling back up into her morphball, she rolled along the gantry, under the half walls and through weaving equipment until she reached the exposed path to the summit. It curled around the cliff, and she charged onwards.  
At the peak she found only two pirates , their heads tucked into the veils of their spotting scopes. Each of them clicked away at the device in their palms, which were wired to the weather monitor. She wedged her knife between the panels and peeled open the monitor. The device itself was small, but the battery and cooling system filled the case. She found a port and plugged in her wrist computer. A moment later, with a fizzle of the screen, a boilerplate UI popped up. Sifting through the lines of code, mindful of her ticking clock, she queried the system and was rewarded with the compression algorithm sending data to the main system. With a few extra zeroes added in, and some positives and negatives reversed, she called her work done. Before resealing the terminal, she pulled two leads from the port, like teeth. No one would be making any corrections without rebuilding the entire machine. She hailed the Hallacrux as she trotted back down the trail.  
“Drop the drone.” She punctuated the order with the Gyr’s coordinates, and closed the channel. She pulled her helmet back to pop a congratulatory gummy metroid into her mouth. Then a green bolt flew past her. Her vision locked on to her attacker: a pirate standing across from her on the platform; a captain.   
He stood tall and proud, running on hand through his plumage as he said something. In his other hand he held that iconic weapon, the pirate venomfang, hybrid rifle / sword. She recognized him from the clan dossier: Captain Velo. He continued talking, punctuating his comment with a hearty laugh. She just tapped her head and pointed at the cannons. Velo began shouting angrily, though still unheard, and made a series of rude gestures. She flexed, summoning forth her cannon, and shifted her feet as her weight did. Velo struck an intimidating pose before charging down the deck. She began charging her cannon while he closed the distance, only 10 meters. When he was on her, she pivoted and fired, ripping into nothing. Velo went high, flipping over her and firing his own blast at her former position. They found themselves standing in mirrored positions around a growing ring of acid. They circled twice. His eyes seamed filled with fear as he lashed out again. His blade sliced through a prefab wall. Her face hanging just below it. She channelled her falling momentum into a hook to his gut. She pulled him into her fall before kicking him through the wall and leapt after him.  
He was already standing on the other side. She tucked and rolled under his swipe, dropped a power bomb and backflipped over his head. Velo staggered, and Samus came up with a strong armed chop, followed by a planted kick into his ankle. The captain caved. A final swipe struggled to find her and she caught the tang underheel. With a twist she made him let go, before taking the blade herself and digging it into the floor. He could only kick like a child as his own weapon dripped acid centimeters from his face. Noxious bubbles filled his nose as it slowly cut through the steel, until the deck gave way beneath them. Samus heard a wicked snap under her as she landed, and waited for the last defiant twitches to fade before pulling off Velo’s dog tag.

~(S)~

Marvin was an odd duck, but helpful. Once she convinced him that she would handle the pirates, he was more willing to turn the traffic monitor back on. He only lamented the loss of his basketball court. The landing pad blinked back to life. She marked the pad for the Gyr’s auto-nav, and warned Marvin about her ship. She promised him she’d be back, and marched into the ruined city.


End file.
